Before the Berries
by deepoceanink
Summary: The 73rd Games and children who almost lived. Take a glimpse into every district through 12 pairs of eyes, a year before the Mockingjay came to life, understand the only life these children knew before they died. Then learn the story of the victor who was not quite rebellious enough and her overly rebellious mentor, as they struggle to whip rebels of district seven.
1. AN

Hello everyone!

I really like writing and this is an attempt to write a hunger games which reflects life in all the districts. The reapings will be in various point of views, and the chapters before the games will be a mixture of different views as well, ranging from the capitol to the different tributes, mentors gamemakers etc, will see how it goes! Please enjoy and give your lovely comments :)


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

 **Point of view of a young district one career**

My name's not all that important. Well not yet anyway. Here in district one, we are only eligible to volunteer for the games after the age of 16, no matter how well trained you are. I'm 14 this year, so I have a couple more years to go before everyone will know my name. They say by statistics, its almost impossible to win with skill before 16. Sure, there are other young winners, whining crying 15 year olds who hide so well everyone forgets they are even there, coming out for the final fight - hunger and basically deranged- taking down their last opponent, usually weathered down by previous fights. But that isn't skill on their part, it's just dumb sheer luck, and it doesn't happen to everyone. The only victor i remember to win before the age of 16 with barely respectable skill is Finnick Odair from the 65th, and even then he still had to trap the others in a net to render them immobile before he could take them out.

Speaking of Odair, I always thought he'd fit in here in District one, with his lovely blonde hair and sea blue eyes. Perhaps the only things which differ is his tanned sun kissed skin, and his rough hands, real tell tale sign that he's from district four. I bet he smells like fish too. Here in one we focus on much less… barbaric activities. We produce absolute items of luxury for the capitol. It often doesn't take a lot of time, and the money is absolutely excellent, so no one in our district ever goes hungry. Most of us go to school, though a few decades back they did make it optional, given that our district is possibly the most wealthy and of course the most beautiful, so there was barely a need for education, it wouldn't help much, no one needs to be taught how to draw up wonderful designs, shout at the lazy textiles makers in eight, and the useless cargo managers in 6. So most of us train. For the games of course.

One is a famous career district, along with two and four, we've had the second most number of victors since the games began 72 years ago, I think we have 13 victors, they just built a few new houses in victors village last year, so hopefully this year we can bring back a 14th. My favorites -I think everyone's favorites- are Gloss and Cashmere. They are just the most beautiful duo, and so deadly too! last year, they came to the training center and told us about the glorious life they lived as victors. I don't think we've ever had that many people volunteer, basically the whole 18 year old section scrambled to get up on stage first. And of course, we found a victor in our female tribute last year, though she came back with a few scars and a vacant look in her eyes. Our male tribute died at the hands of district twelve of all districts! An absolute disgrace. But he was a bully who pushed us younger kids around anyway, and I hated him. Good riddance. This year alot of the 18 year olds are opting to volunteer, it being their last year and all. But it's all about who reaches the stage first. I heard in district two, they select who gets to volunteer before the games, but that's no fun at all. Running for your spot makes sense, and it adds excellent volume to your hair. I'll definitely be running for my spot in a few years, maybe the 76ths games or so. But till then, there's still alot of training to do

Our training is rigorous, but effective. We make sure to make our weapons blunt (For now), because any damage to our faces or bodies, can prove dire. We've always flourished on our beauty and elegance, so why ruin it in training accidents like other districts (Two, of course) do? Monday and Wednesday is weapons training, depending on your specialty. Mine is the mace, very old school I know, but effective nonetheless. But there are tons of other weapons. Marvel trains with spears, Glimmer with bows (though shes not very good), some with swords, axes, knives of course, even blowguns and slingshots. If anyone can make such simple sad weapons lethal and beautiful, its district one. On Tuesday and Thursday, its Hand to hand combat. Friday it's tactics. The whole of Panem seems to think that distinct one is ditzy, but most of us know exactly what we are playing at, though I'll have to agree some of ours are simply quite dim. And Saturday its presentation- which we take very seriously. Sunday is mostly spa day, to relax our bodies and our souls. Of course we get fed at the training center, it has more than enough donations to keep it going. They give us only the best greens and proteins, each calorie calculated with extreme precision, to ensure we look slim, but not underfed, toned, but not overly muscular.

We mostly train and eat with people of our age group, though if you're really advanced, they'll move you up. Like me, I train with the 15s, not that I'm bragging. And the Archworth twins, the girl is deadly with a crossbow, and the boy can spear anything in a 20 metre radius, they're 17, but they train with the 18s. Sometimes Gloss and Cashmere give them pointers...simply amazing!

Sorry I'll have to end here, the reapings starting. As usual our escort goes on stage with his ridiculous mockery of our district one styles. His blond wig is disgusting against his purple skin, as are his blue contacts against his green eyebrows. Our Mayor introduces him and reads us the treaty of treason like he does every year. "Happy Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favour!" Finally, lets get this moving! This dress is far too long for the hot town square, and my perspiration is messing with my make up a little.

He calls a 14 for the girls, shes in my year at school. Not a trained career, prefers to spend her time doing manicures and curling her hair. That mass of curls would be so impractical in the arena. He asks her if she would be allowing volunteers, she smiles and says yes. Of course, this is a practice unique to career districts, incase a tribute is reaped and does not wish to be volunteered for. He asks for volunteers. A mass of 16 and aboves surge forwards, the 18s desperate to represent in their last year of eligibility. When the first heel (Yes, we run in heels) steps on the stage the rest sulk back angrily. He asks for her name. "Tealina Archworth." She smiles. She's 17, the 18s won't be happy with her stealing the limelight. She took their last chance. If she returns victor they won't be too happy about it. If she doesn't then… well then there are other things to worry about.

Tealina has always been a good fighter, stands a real chance in the arena, a face like that sure to get lots of sponsors. She's pretty, even by district one standards. A good tribute, very victor material.

He's moved on to the boys. "Cobalt Archwood!" Her twin brother. 17 as well. He asks if he is allowing volunteers. Cobalt says no. Interesting. Been awhile since a sibling pair entered the games together. The last i remember was in the 67th games (When Cashmere won) district 9 had a pair of siblings. Both fell in the bloodbath of course. But here I guess district one is sending a pair who stand a chance. He's just as beautiful as his sister, and they smile at the crowd. Sponsors will be falling over each other for this pair, our district stands a real chance. I think the mentors for this year echo my thoughts, as they look at each other and give nods of approvals. No one I need to say goodbye to this year, and reaping day means no training, so I go home and revise tactics for a while. They'll be showing the other reapings soon. Let the 73rd hunger games begin.

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AN: There was previously alot of code probably because of the copy and pasting from my computer, but thanks to Radio Free Death it's been corrected now :) Hope its a better read now!


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

 **POV of a Career Trainer**

Victors village. Well that's been my home for a while now, since my uncle brutus won the 54th games. But no, I'm not a victor. In my defence i did try by best, but I never won the volunteer trials. I began trying for the 67th games when I was 16, but they chose an 18 year old brute, chunk of muscles with no brains. Fell into a trap by the district 8 tribute. Died. I tried for the 68th when I was 17 but they chose the same type: the all brawn no brains. After the pack split he got too hungry and ate some screwed up berries. Died choking seconds before a parachute of lamb stew came down. Idiot really. Of course my last chance was the 69th, but again I failed, and they gave it to - suprise - a boy built like an ox. Johanna Mason had his head of course. He was still laughing at how weak and helpless she was when she had her axe in his throat. But no one talks about them. The "Non-Victors". The ones who come back without glory, in boxes. Everyone remembers the Brutuses and their victories, their strength, their bravery, the Enobarias and their savageness, the bloodthirst which our district is most known for. No one remembers those we've had to bury, like my sister, my brother. I think Uncle Brutus remembers though. I think that's why he took me in.

I was still training in the academy when the news that my sister was torn apart by mutts in the 64th games. Was polishing my blow gun dart when they told me she fell. "The fallen" They call it. They have a small corner in the training center. Tiny dusty one, with pictures of my sister and her district partner from the 64th. Of my brother in the 60th. When he lost, my father basically disowned us. It was a real disgrace to be family of a losing tribute. When my sister went in, she wanted to win back our family honour, but we lost it all. Uncle Brutus let me stay with him. When his youngest brother lost the 46th games, their family was enraged. It was only when brutus went in and won the 54th did they regain some of their torn pride. They were close though, Uncle Brutus and his fallen brother. "Abram, that was his name." But my father and their parents stopped acknowledging their oldest son, brutus is the only one to visit his grave, every year, before he has to leave as mentor. He always asks me to buy lilacs on the way home from the training center.

I see it in the Fallen, I trace my fingers over their pictures. We remember. So I don't think it bothered uncle brutus much when I didn't make to volunteer, and to be honest I was rather relived. I'm a trainer at the center now, it would be a stretch to say he's proud of me, but he comes down to check on me and the kids sometimes, and that's enough for me. He puts on his scary, mean victor front, but uncle brutus isn't all that bad. But these kids, they know the mean victor, the remember the pictures of our 20 victors, in the middle of the training center, acting as a motivation of some sort. Below each picture is their kill count. Just the district numbers and the genders, no names. But I know the names of the 9 Uncle Brutus killed, he says them in his sleep, over and over.

We start training here at the age of 8. We take it very seriously. It's almost forbidden to join training after the age of 8. District 2 basically started the career origins. We always fared well in the games, even in the early years before training. We were used to heavy lifting of stones, and we basically made the weapons which go into the arena. When the aspect of training was brought in by the gamemakers, and they requested more training weapons, we just began producing extra to train on our own. District 1 and 4 followed suit, 4 training with fishing spears and 1 just having enough money to buy the weapons. But our district takes it the most seriously. Beginning at 8 when they learn hand to hand, and survival skills. When they are strong enough to lift a weapon, they begin weapons training. For the boys, its 10 for the early bloomers and 11 on average, for the girls, they take a while longer, but most of them are at weapons by 13, some by 12. They have to try all the weapons, and us trainers access them and see which they should train as their primary and which as their secondary. Swords, Bows, Knives, Blowguns, slingshots, axes, maces, spears. I'm in charge of the blow guns. A very underrated weapon I must say. Rarely see anyone do it justice in the games. That blonde from twelve in the Quarter Quell used it though, dipped it in poison, she didn't hit the right parts, but it was deadly enough. Took out one of ours with that gun. I was secretly quite proud. But most of the kids are identified for swords, like Cato, a huge 17 year old who will no doubt be volunteering soon. Girls mostly use smaller weapons, bows and knives. One of my girls, Clove, the blowgun is her secondary weapon, her aim is impeccable and she is highly skilled for one so young. Her primary is the throwing knives, and she's vicious at it. She's 14 this year, but she might very well be selected to volunteer soon. It's rare that an under 16 is chosen to volunteer, but it is not impossible. I don't have many kids under me, 2 girls and 1 boy using the blow gun as their primary weapon. But a new batch is being accessed after the reaping, so perhaps I'll get some secondaries, even a primary if I'm lucky. We used to get teased so bad for using the blowgun as the primary, but a few years back our female tribute, a tiny 17 year old, took out half the field with her blowgun and the laughing stopped. It's all about hitting the correct part of the brain.

Training is everyday here, I hear in one they have off days, but there's no such luxury here. We 6am to 5pm. No exceptions. Everyday, you may quit, but you deal with the shame. It is no wonder we have the most number of victors by a longshot. 18 since the games began. 9 male and 9 female. We only had 12 houses in victors village at first, so we had to open a whole new section, but still, victors village is getting full and there are plans for renovation. Our victories are ensured by the volunteer system as well, it's not like in one where fastest legs first. We observe and we trial them, sometimes even getting our previous victors to fight against them. This year we selected Marbelle Feldspear and Alexander Mical. She's excellent with knives, throwing and in combat, and he's excellent with the broadsword. His secondary weapon is actually the blowgun though, not that it matters. Both vicious trained killers. Both 18

and ready to fight. Was a tough decision, it is every year, with so many worthy kids. But Marbelle grew up in the poorer part of the district labelled The Slab, where the work is labour based and the pay is little. Slab workers carry stones to weapon makers, their hands are rough and eyes weary. Every once in awhile there's an accident, like when Mr Feldspear's hand got crushed by a heavy stone and he couldn't work anymore. That's when Marbelle got sent to the academy. Being trained ensures a child is well fed. Marbelle is their second chance at life, they might just move from their worn down cottage in the slab. But Marbelle grew up there nonetheless, she went home to it after training, she knows how to survive.

Alexander is the great grandson of one of the earlier victors, he has a name to live up to. And sometimes in district two, name is everything. He grew up in the richer part of the district, being the descendant of a victor. First of his family to be selected to volunteer, they must be very proud, probably celebrating in their mansion. He's good, but we've sent relatives of victors before, not everyone makes it out. At least my brother and sister didn't.

It's been awhile since we brought home a victor, the previous was Enobaria in the 64th games. But We are still the only district to have brought back 4 victors in a row. It was the 46th till the 49th, we would have loved a quell victor, but Haymitch Abernathy from 12 took the victory, the second 12 victor in history. But that's alright, they can keep that victory, we have plenty to spare.

Our escort calls an 18 year old for the boys. A spear boy from the training center. He walks up, cursing under his breath. When she asks if he would be allowing a volunteer, I see his eyes flicker in defiance. He is not supposed to refuse a volunteer, unless he is the selected one, but I see him tempted to say no, after all, who would give up this great honour? But there are dire consequences to disobeying orders, and he knows it. So he says yes and Alexander mounts the stage.

For the girls they call a 13 year old, and she gladly gives up her spot for Marbelle. Not ready yet. Not ready for this great honour. The two stand side by side on stages, smiling. In a few weeks, at most one will return, and no one really returns smiling.

I suppose for now I'll buy those lilacs for uncle Brutus, he'll be leaving with the tribute train soon.


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

 **POV of an average 17 Year old District three Girl**

The general smog from the factory smoke makes it hard to go outside. We often don't survive well in the arena. Our whole lives are spent inside factories, or in schools. We get educated from the age of 7 to 12, and when we reach reaping age, we begin working in factories. Most of us start with assembly, if we show great skill, or as much skill as one can show in a repetitive action such as assembly, we move on to do circuit boarding. If you are identified as an individual of immense potential, they further educate you. Identification occurs at the ages of 14 to 16, it is done by our most brilliant minds, such as our victor Beetee. I've always hoped to get identified, but my time has come and go, and I'm 17 this reaping. Those identified, we call them the denfies, their education continues after their final reaping, after which they will move to more advanced jobs in the district, such as engineering and inventing. Education is hard to come by, and so, so previous to a district like ours. They don't waste it on anyone eligible for the reaping, incase they get reaped, and the education is wasted. But most of us grow up working in assembly and circuit boards, it's not a wonderful life, but its better than death.

District three is practical and realistic, we know the odds aren't in our favour. Any tribute only has a 4.2% of coming out of the arena alive, even the strong careers only have 10% at most, having to face off against the other careers and gamemaker traps, not to mention general exposure of the arena. We've never had a volunteer, and we never will, it simply isn't logical to volunteer for such a risky situation. After all, our district has only produced 5.5% of victors since the games started, the most recent being over 20 years ago, when Wiress came back even more damaged than before. In the 72 year history of the games, 13 have been won by district one, 18 by two, 4 by three, 10 by four, 3 by five, 3 by six, 5 by seven, 3 by eight, 3 by nine, 4 by ten, 4 by eleven and 2 by twelve. Our district doesn't fare too badly, but definitely not well enough for us to anticipate the games like the career districts do. Perhaps a reason for our rather poor performance is that we are awfully sandwitched between the 3 career districts, who outshine and overshadow even our brightest brains. We have low training scores and forgettable interviews, little sponsorship. Every once in awhile we bring back a victor, and Panem remembers that there is a district three.

All of our victors won by outsmarting the other one way or another. Our first victor in the 18th games laid out obvious trails, which led tributes who were hunting to fall down a steep cliff. It was almost ironic when he… accidentally slipped and crashed head first down one of our factories decades back. Of course I didn't see this myself, but most of us are well versed on the lives of our victors, after all, we only have 4. Our second victor won the 36th games by hiding in strategic places. The arena favoured him, with tall buildings, the concrete jungle which district three is used to. He only needed to make the final kill, with the career shouting at him from a mile away, he could easily locate and shoot him with a crossbow. Beetee won the 45th games by electrocuting his final opponents, though gruesome, his plan was brilliant. When he came back, he identified wiress at 16, she almost made it. It was her final reaping when her name came out of the bowl. She's always been a mad genius, emphasis on the mad. In the arena she received a parachute of medicine after she fought of a pack of mutts. After which she filled the parachute with poison berries and dropped it on unknowing tributes, making them think it was a gift from sponsors. Her plan couldn't fool the well fed career tributes, not yet desperate enough to blindly eat berries. She then used wood to make a contraption which sprayed poison berry juice onto her opponents. All she had to do was hold her breath for long enough. They always said poison was a woman's weapon. I suppose it is true in this case. Of course Wiress did not go back to education, its almost forbidden for victors to do so. Everyone was at loss at what to do, this was the first time an denti had been reaped and came back. It was finally decided that she would join our victor beetee in identification.

She sticks close to beetee and identifies. The first girl she identified was reaped at 17, died in the bloodbath, as many of our tributes do. Wiress decided she didn't want to identify anymore, Beetee still comes round though, he is kind, though he winces when sparks fly in the circuit room. Most of the denties do make it past the reaping, working under him, inventing amazing things, though I can't imagine what for. Devices which break radio broadcasts, we don't have radio here, perhaps he can afford it with the victor's salary though. And explosives and high tech weapons. Perhaps its in preparation for the upcoming quell, maybe that's the twist they will be adding in, high tech weapons. I wince at this thought. I only know this because one of my close friends is a denti, she passed her final reaping last year, and has since been working with beetee on his new inventions. She often tells me about it, gives me something to think about, but I know I have no life above assembly and circuit boards. I might not even have life past the next week if I'm reaped.

We are released early on reaping day, and I walk with a few of my friends to the square. There's not much to say to each other, our whole district basically walks in silence. The thing about district three is there isn't much disparity in our wealth. Everyone eats the same, lives the same. Everyone takes the same amount of tesserae. So everyone's odds are roughly the same. Of course the younger ones have lower chances of being reaped, its only logical, but against anyone in the same age group, everyone fares the same. At seventeen my chances are rather high, but my family has worked extra hard and my younger brother has taken all the tesserae, being thirteen, even with the tesserae he only has 4 slips in. I have 6 slips. The odds are rather in our favour I suppose. Doesn't stop me from being nervous. Nervous for myself, nervous for my brother. He's thirteen, if he's chosen, he will most definitely die. The statistics reflect terribly on tributes below the age of 16, and he will most certainly die. So will I actually, regardless of age. We could very well both die, if we both are reaped, there's close to zero chance of anyone volunteering. I've seen it happen before, in other districts, when two tributes of the same family are reaped, and they stand there will pleading eyes, hoping at least one of them can stay and continue the bloodline. But everyone just avoids eye contact. It would no doubt happen if it was the case of my brother and I. But the odds of that happening are low. there is a six in thousands chance of it being me and four in thousands for him. For both of them to happen at the same time would be incredibly difficult and almost mathematically unfeasible. All this thinking is making my head hurt, and I can't remember the last time I breathed.

Our escort walks on stage and cheerfully greets us, slightly disheartened by our unenthusiastic reply. I wonder if he feels overshadowed as well, escorting district three in the middle of one, two and four. If he does he doesn't show it and makes a huge show out of encouraging us to bring a victor back. He walks over to the female class bowl, with clean, white names in side, Six of them say my name. He makes a show of stirring the names reaching into the bowl for a name at the very bottom. He picks it up, 2 slips of paper follow it, he shakes them off, stubbornly holding onto one slip. Lucky girls. He unfolds it. please do not be my name. "Rosali Levitte!" It's not me. Its a lanky 16 year old from the assembly lines. She carries a grim expression and mounts the stage. She's clearly named after the scientist Rosalind Franklin as many of our district are. Science is our beginning, and has always been our saviour. Maybe it would be hers as well.

I remind myself to breathe. I take half a breath, the other half for when I know my brother is safe. As Rosali struggles not to cry on stage, the escort walks over to the next reaping bowl. He once again dips his hand in deep, wiggling it around through slips and slips. He finally picks one out from the middle and nicely unfolds it. "Albert Frank" it's not my brother, I let out a sigh of relief. I do feel terrible about it though. Albert is 16, named after one of the most famous scientists of all time, Albert Einstein. He's shaking as he steps up on stage I hear his parents crying at the borders of the square. The escort asks for volunteers, he's greeted by silence as he always is, as I've said, the odds aren't good enough.

I find my brother and we hug, we're safe for another year.


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

 **POV of an old lady**

I've seen a lot of reapings in my time. I remember when they reaped our first victor, Margaret Summers. It was the 8th games. That was before they had training and interviews and all the pretty things. It was when the tributes were chosen and then flown to the capitol and thrown into the battlefield. It wasn't even an arena then, just a grassfield, wherever they could find. Thrown some weapons and the teenagers in and let the blood splatter on the green grass. She was strong, knew her way with the spear that girl, a boy threw it at her, he missed and she retrieved it. It never left her hand, and she speared her way to victory. The games were over in hours back then, there were no mutts or traps or pretty arenas. It was all very raw and savage. Of course over time president snow made changes to please the capitol audience, they don;t like the messy deaths and short lived bloodbaths. But when Margaret came back she had speaking impairments, they didn't have such advanced technology then, they couldnt fixed everything. The early victors had scars, missing limbs, hearing loss and blindness. But the new ones come back in better condition than when they left… at least on the outside. In an interview, they asked Margaret if she could still say her full name. She tried to say MargS. S fo summer. that was what her friends called her. There were many margarets. But it came out as Mags with her speech impairment, and the name just stuck. Mags it is. She had a bad stroke last year, least her worse than before. She can barely speak. She doesn't go to the capitol to mentor anymore, there are far newer victors for that.

After the 20th games, when the last of the 12 districts gained at least one victor, they introduced the mentoring system. It was soon after they introduced the training system as well. Mags overheard that districts one and two were training their tributes, and thought it was only fair we stood a chance as well. She began inviting interested children to her them how to make hooks and nets, use spears and swords. She began the career culture here in four, but she's brought back 9 children after her so no one's complaining. We still lose a lot of young, but we save more than other districts combined. Not everyone wants to train as a career, I remember many children crying, without eager volunteers to replace them. Our children don't train to volunteer, most of them train in case they are reaped.

He was reaped, my son. Good thing he trained with Mags, could defend himself well in the Arena. Tried to save the girl too, but District Two has always been savage, they took her down without batting an eye, and my smart boy ran and ran. The odds were against him really, when the final three was District two and himself. But he disarmed the boy and speared the girl in one move. He was our third victor. We moved from the Docks to Victor VIllage. Sometimes he goes off to the capitol for business, for mentoring when the games are on. Never wanted to have kids, never fell in love and got married. He mostly sits in his room, staring out the window. My husband died decades ago.

I remember the reaping of that pretty boy, The Odair one. I knew his grandfather, he was a great man, died a hero, defending the rebels against the capitol, was glad when this odair came back alive. He's always been kind to Mags. Most of the other victors would give up on a 14 year old, but not sweet old mags. She helped him along and sent him that damn trident, and she brought him home. He's been taking care of her since she has no family, feeding her and taking her on walks around the district, when she just smiles and waves absentmindedly. She's seen a lot with those two eyes, more than me, and that's something. I've seen over a hundred kids die on screen. She had to see their bodies back to the district.

And the poor Cresta girl, never left the arena that one. I hear her screams next door, before Odair gets there to comfort her. I remember her from the Docks. Her father was a fisherman and her mother a Shell collector. It was hard on all of us when there was a derailment of a train, shipment of coal from district 12, fell into the ocean, the stuff got everywhere, poisoned all our fish. No doubt an act of rebellion by district six. It was when they had a tribute with a real chance of winning. Titus, ate the others after he killed them. Poor boy was going crazy really. THe Capitol got scared, apparently monsters get scared too, and they wiped him out with an avalanche. District six hadn't had any tribute that close to a victory in decades. They were angry, but the derailment barely made a dent in the capitol, but district twelve worked twice as hard and district four suffered as well. Her father was desperate and starving, went into the deep sea, hoped to find more fish, but a big storm took the whole boat out and the family starved even more. Annie was reaped that very reaping.

I remember all the reapings, the ones in between the victories. Some kids from the Docks, others from the Market. Docks are for the fishermen and their families, born and bred near the ocean, swimmers, good with spears and nets. Finnick, Annie and Mags. Market are the ones who are barely better off. They trade and do business with other districts and the capitol, handle shipments of fresh fish and preparations of delicacies. They don't know as much about survival, but they know their way around a knives and hooks, we've had a handful of victors from the Market. District four has always been like this, even before the dark days. Even during the dark days. We had a few volunteers, most from the Docks, hoping to get out of their hard lives at sea to the life of a victor, with luxury and comfort. Some make it, the others don't.

This reaping is no different from the others. I see the victors on stage, my son included. The reaping has always been a formality, I've had no one to worry about for the past few decades. I usually don't know the children who are reaped, not personally. The only person I say goodbye to is my son, and I know for sure he's coming back. Our escort is lively as ever as our district tackles the event with intense indifference. She's clearly quite happy, having brought back Odair in the 65th and Crest shortly after in the 70th. Its considered quite an honour to be escort of district four, third to only districts two and one. I remember when she first started after the 60th games, promoted from district seven after they gained their fourth Victor. The one before her was a man, demoted when our district failed to bring back a victor in more than ten years, the one before him an elderly man who likely retired. If she's lucky and we gain a victor in the next few years, she can be looking at a promotion to district one or two.

I stand at the perimeter of the square and she picks the names. Besides parents and uncles and siblings praying for the safety of their kins. For the girls she picks Natica Murex, a strong tanned 15 year old from the Docks. I think I've seen her training with Mags, talking with Annie and Finnick. Stands a chance this one. As the mounts the steps I see her make eye contact with the victors, they give her an affirming nod, my son just stares like she's not even there. She puts on a brave face and shrugs her shoulders, tries to relax. For the boys she picks Scott Cerith, a strong looking 18 year old, though his lack of tanned skin and freckles mean he's from the Market. They never need tesserae so the odds just weren't in this boys favour. He stands with pride, as our tributes always do. Trained or not, they go in with their heads held high. It's an old saying, how you have to keep your head high in district four, because if you don't, it'll go underwater. I remember the girl who created that saying, attended her funeral a few years back. She lived a long life, but one of these children will not.

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AN: This chapter has some references to the evolution of the games, a concept I've always envisioned and hopefully will get down to writing soon :) Sorry if it's a little confusing, please give me comments as to how to improve!


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

 **POV of a parent**

Most of us are common workers at the various electricity plants, where we oversee operations which ensure panem has enough power to sustain itself. Of course when I say panem, I mean mostly the capitol and maybe districts one and two, four if they're lucky. Other districts can barely afford food on the table, and when necessities are scarce, there's no need to worry about things like electricity.

I've worked in the hydrobank since my first posting. After you pass reaping age, you get posted to work in a plant: the Hydrobank, the windmills, the solar panels or the geothermal heaters. No one has any preference, they jobs are all similar with their minimal pay and low skill requirements, when you get posted, you stay until there is a reposting, which occurs only on two occasions: The first is when a disaster takes out a large number of workers in a plant. Like when geothermal heater overheated and exploded a few years back, killed almost half of the workers and they needed more. The second is if you cause a disaster: Like when a rainspell caused our solar panels to fail, with dark clouds blocking out most sunlight, and the capitol had a few flickering lights in the east area, they reposted almost all the workers as if new ones could make the sun magically come out.

But the hydrobank is safe, nothing ever happens. Water always flows, even in winter when the top is frozen over, there's still a strong current underneath.. So It's been 25 years of watching the turbines go round and round with the flowing currents, making sure the speed levels are up to par so capitol citizens can watch their television and microwave their food. It just turns all day, while we watch it with blank stares, occasionally nibbling on stale bread. There was never much to do: Stare at the turbines, stare at each other. It was eight hours a day and six days a week, it didn't do us any good to not talk. And so we did. One thing led to another and one day he offered me his family necklace. It was simple copper and shaped like a spiral. I could almost see it go round and round like the turbines. I said yes, there was no reason to say no. \

It was 5 years into the marriage when he broached the subject of having kids. There was so much to consider, our income, our house, and most importantly, the reapings. District five have lost a lot of children to the games. To be precise 141 children, aged 12 to 18. Every year, 2 pairs of parents send their children to a fight to the death, but in most years, it's barely a fight at all. Given that children aren't taught any skills that might help them in the arena here in five, it's no surprise that we've only brought back 3 victors. All were lucky, escaping the mutts and watching the careers kill each other off, hiding and crying until only they remained, one fell out of a tree and landed on another tribute, began crying and ran off, but lived nonetheless. But most were not, throats slit, necks broken, guts stabbed. Knives, swords, maces, axes taking them out.

I didn't want my child to be another bloodbath death. But he argued that most parents get to see their children grow old, most didn't have to raise a child to be slaughtered, most were happy. So i had to agree. I'm glad I did, because when he came life became alot more than watching turbines. It became feeding and rocking, making funny faces and cleaning up, it became… something better. Years later we had her. He had learnt to walk and speak, helped soothe her crying and carried her when we had our hands full. Life became something more. We still did the work, eight hours a day, six days a week, but before that we dropped him off in school and put her to bed. Paying girls on the street to take care of her so they don't have to warm the beds of strange men, and after work we'd go home to him reading, writing or drawing, and her crawling about on the floor. When we watched the turbines turn, we saw them playing on the abandoned windmill down the road, with the other kids, they would go round and round, taking turns spinning each other.

He has 4 years till his first reaping, and she has 10.

But this year they reap Atlanta Gideon and Lowel Wattson. She's fifteen and he's a younger younger. They spent their lives watching turbines or screens, indoors and inactive. Both of them are trying not to cry, but the boy fails and he chokes back sobs. THe Gideons work in the windmills and the Wattsons at the Solar panels, both families are crying, and Mr Wattson puts and arm around his heavily pregnant wife.

They will only ever have one child.

* * *

AN: to be very honest, I'm upset with this chapter. But the books don't really offer much for me to work with district 5, and it would be irrelevant to bring in foxface in this POV. I hope you enjoyed it anyway! I think six and seven would be more enjoyable for you!


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

 **POV of a train driver**

Only 5 people from district 6 have seen the Capitol and lived to tell the tale.

The first was the male tribute of the 7th games, he used a sickle to cut through the rest of his opponents, he came back missing and eye and with a severe limp, but he took out district 8 in the end after an ice pick to the eye.

The second was the female tribute of the 53rd games. She was sixteen and small for her age, worked along the train tracks. She hid in the thick trees and set traps for animals, but occasionally caught tributes as well. She screamed as she slit their throats, and when she came back she wasn't complete without a syringe of morphling.

The third was the male tribute of the 60th games. He was eighteen and rode trains when there was a break for the heavy loaders. Handy with a knife, and quick on his feet, he took out most of the careers after they were wounded in a battle against each other. He then waited for the rest of the tributes to slowly starve to death. He took an arrow to the lower back in the final battle with district 2, and in healing had morphling to help him walk off the pain. He doesn't walk much now, but he still takes the morphling.

The fourth is my father, the train director of the tribute trains from district six.

The fifth is me, after my father's funeral. My father had been driving the tribute train ever since the first games. It was the newest and the most important job anyone in district six could have. Though the capitol did consider using hovercrafts to transport tributes to save time, in the end they decided not to extent so many resources to children who would ultimately die. Trains were far slower, but just as effective. When they brought in all the other whoha for the games, the fact that tribute trains were slower played an important part in stretching out the games and milking them for all their worth.

It's a complicated system, the escorts are dropped off via hovercraft, so they leave the capitol on the day of the reaping, but the tribute trains leave far before that. About a three days before the reapings, they are sent to the capitol to be stocked with the luxuries only bestowed on us district dwellers if we are being sent to our deaths: Abundance of food, a closet full of clothes of every size and the avoxes, who are of course forbidden to take hovercrafts. The avoxes make sure the food is kept fresh and they clean the train. The capitol rations the avoxes food for the days on the train and in district six, in case we "overfeed" them, as if we could afford to. The trains then come back to district six for refuelling and through inspection, to make sure everything is in order. Of course the tribute trains are specially made for this occasion, they have fancy lights and beds and closets, and made of the toughest material to keep out the cold. When the trains are not in use, they are under lock down, so none of us can go in and use the beds to hide from the cold. All our other trains are dirty and worn, covered in soot and mud from cargo shipping, made of thin metal threatening to break any second.

I'm not done yet, it's hard taking care of the tribute trains. District 6 is in the middle, so it takes equal time for our train to reach districts 1 and 12, which are the furthest. The trains leave one day before the reaping to those districts, and four hours after, the trains to 11 and 2, another four hours the trains to 10 and 3 leave, and so on. Getting the trains there are the easy part, getting them to the capitol is the hard part, having to make sure the trains don't get too close to one another, don't detrack, making sure they enter the right platform (The fans will be waiting) in the right order:

Districts 1 5 and 9 arrive at the North platform, in that order, exactly 2 hours apart from each other.

Districts 2 6 and 10 arrive at the East platform, in that order, exactly 2 hours apart from each other.

Districts 3 7 and 11 arrive at the South platform, in that order, exactly 2 hours apart from each other.

Districts 4 8 and 12 arrive at the North platform, in that order, exactly 2 hours apart from each other.

The Districts have to arrive in order from 1 to 12, each train 30 minutes after the previous, at their respective platforms, first train at noon from district one, one day after the reapings, and the last train from twelve on the same day at six in the afternoon. As you can see, there will need to be intense planning and coordination for everything to flow, rght from pre-reaping till district twelve pulls into the capitol. It's all very tedious work. with no room for error. And that's just the beginning of the games.

When the… fallen are sent home, it's just as tedious, if not more. I can't believe I'm refer to these children, dead children as tedious. Depends on when the tributes fall. It's usually the hardest after the bloodbath, if both tributes fall, and the mentors… services are no longer needed, they are to be sent back immediately, once the bodies are cleaned and boxed. And of course for the victors, to be sent home after the ceremonies. But the work for us doesn't end there, we have to begin planning the victory tour, and after that's done, the next reaping has more or less rolled around.

My father directed this system for sixty five years. Follows the district six train, has the best view, being right in the middle. He doesn't drive it, all our trains are automated, the capitol doesn't allow us to travel to other districts, with exception of my father who leaves with our tributes, and comes back with them too. Brought me back stories of the great capitol, how lavish and elaborate it all was. He never ever made a mistake, right till the day he died. At eighty five. Not many people reach that age, but his job paid well enough to keep us healthier than most, didn't stop him from hating it, having to serve the games. From the sixty sixth games onwards, I took over as tribute train director, saw the capitol with my own eyes. Loses it's beauty when it kills twenty three children a year, real shame that is. I do loathe my job, but it's better than the other alternatives in the district.

In six, there are three main jobs: Loaders, builders and riders. The loaders take inventory on what we have to ship out, to where and by when. They load it on to the train, making sure it's in top condition, they do the heavy lifting. The builders are self explanitory, they fix the trains when they fall apart, and rebuild our tracks when they are worn. Riders are those who take the train all the way to the edge of the district and back to the control station, its to make sure the train goes on the right track. Our elaborate track systems has a series of tracks which have the ability to switch from left to right, changing the course of the train. Sometimes when we have a lot of shipments to many different areas the switching needs to be fast. The switching is mostly done from the station till the edge of the district, and after that there's only one track to each district or to the capitol. It's confusing, but basically when you only have one loading and unloading platform and shipments to 12 different areas, you need someone to make sure it goes in the right direction. The directors get it best, there's only a handful, including our mayor, they schedule the trains and deal with the automated systems in them. and of course there's me and only me, with the tribute train and all.

This year has been smooth so far, all twelve to the capitol and back for refuelling on time. Passed inspection. Trains for 12, 1,11,2,10,3 and 6 have arrived, rest on way and on schedule. The hovercraft has arrived and the avoxes and tending to our escort before the reaping in 2 hours. She's very uptight, shouting at our victors, though they don't seem to register a single word she's screaming. We haven't had a victor since the 60th games, and she's getting impatient. All these dead children must be irritating her so.

All the tribute trains have arrived with time to spare. Excellent.

She calls Helena North for the girls, and almost looks annoyed when the crying thirteen year old mounts the stage, gasping for breath. There are no volunteers, and little Helena keeps a steady stream of tears. Her parents are builders, specialising in train tracks, she has yet to work a day in her life.

Hugh Randal for the boys. A strong 16 year old. A rider, they start at 14. He's fast, I've seen him run to catch the trains, and smart. I've seen him react to the fastest switches: When someone said district seven when it was to eleven, and he performed a fast sequence of switches to correct the mistake in seconds. Maybe I won't be riding back with boxes this year.

But I'll still be riding back with a box. At least on box. But now, I'm riding there with two children.

District one has pulled out of the platform, slightly ahead of schedule, adjust train speed accordingly. District two took a long time to load their fierce tributes, will need to increase train speed to make it in time.

Next stop: The Capitol.

* * *

AN: Really enjoyed writing this one! District six is all so interesting and this POV was hihgly interesting to write. Hope it was nice!


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

 **POV of a worker whose child died in the games**

District Seven has been different since the sixty-ninth, when Johanna Mason brought home a surprise victory with her defenceless girl act. Our district had extra rations for the year, more food for everyone. There's been a sense of hope in the air, hope for something better, hope we haven't felt in a long time.

Seven has never been too weak of a district, being a lumberjack puts you at better odds than most, it's almost impossible to cut down tree after tree without strength and endurance. Everyone starts working with an ax at the age of 12, quite appropriate, almost like training for the games. As time goes by, other methods of cutting the trees are introduced, with the use of chainsaws and saws. So many of our tributes do go in with some weapon skills, even the young ones, and we do make it past the bloodbath. Almost every year we have a tribute in the final eight. But then again, we all know that apart from being a victor, there's no difference in placings in the games. Everyone is equal in death.

I've always seen it as a safety net. Living in seven. Forested Arenas favour us axes, even the occasional saw, is a good and effective weapon to wield. We've had five victors, the best of the non career district. The most recent ones being Blight in the fifty eighth and of course Johanna. We stand real solid chances, district seven. Which is why I thought that maybe, maybe she would come back. When she was reaped for the seventy first, she was only fifteen. I didn't say goodbye, she could come back, my girl, she could. She was good with axes, climbed trees like a little squirrel. She could come back, I didn't want to say goodbye, I believed I didn't have to. Gave her our family necklace as a token, carved from soft wood and messily strung through with a slender vine, she showed it off during her interview, saying it's a secret weapon and it'll keep her safe. When they revealed the arena to be forested, I could see the determination in her eyes, she knew she could win. She allied with the boy from district 6, she called him max. They made it out of the bloodbath relatively unscathed and with some good supplies. They mainly waited the competition out, the careers took out most of the others and by the first week the field was down to twelve tributes. They did run into a bear mutt, with demonic red eyes and razor sharp claws, but they fought it off with big rocks and wits. I remember holding my breath as she distracted the bear, while her ally scaled the tree by the stream, and the she made a dash for the stream, the bear hot on her heels. I thought it was all over, that she was going to come home in a box, probably in pieces. But then his hands came down from the tree and she jumped and held onto them, the bear diving head first into the river.

It was after that she got the axe. A sponsor gift from Johanna and her admirers in the capitol. A weapon she could finally use. But of course it came with strings, almost immediately after they herded another alliance between five and eight towards them. They boy from eight that year was monstrous, had the size of an ox and the strength of one too. He snapped her allies neck in an instant, and i was petrified that she would be next. She screamed when he did it, began choking back sobs, I couldn't hear her over the sound of the cannon and the voiceover from Caesar on the death of another tribute, but I could see. But when eight advanced towards her hands outstretched, her survival skills kicked in, and she swung. Here in seven, if we see a wolf advancing, you have to wait for it to come close, then swing. You can't let it go, it;ll come back with friends, and you won't stand a chance, so you need to swing. The axe lodged deep in his chest, and sprayed her with red blood. She had to blink it out of her eyes, and when she did, i could see it. She's killed wolves before, but this wasn't a woof, it was a person, and she killed him, and it was eating her from the inside. District five ran, lucky for my girl, because she collapsed immediately crying and rocking. Started with loud sobs and gradually dwindled down to slow deep breaths and then silence. She stared into nothing for a long time, until the anthem woke her up, and she robotically climbed up a tree to hide.

The next day the reporters arrived from district seven, they asked me how i thought she performed, if she could win, the normal classic things, but I could barely register any of it with the TV in front of me, showing that she was dangerously close to a career. The pack had split up, ending with a bloody fight and the girl from two and the boy from four dead. The other fleed with injuries and blood on their hands. But then again, my girl had blood on her hands too, and she's been absentmindedly trying to scrub them off. She was close to the district four girl and then the gamemakers prompted a flight of birds to alert the girl of her location. Four wasn't badly injured, she had a gash on her stomach which made it harder to fight, but she was still strong. When my girl pinned her down and raised the axe, I thought she had won, she was going to live through this. But then she dropped it. She wasn't going to swing, not this time. And that's when four hit her head with the rock, and broke my heart into a million pieces. But my girl, she was strong, she slumped on the ground, but she kept her eyes open, and forced a smile, she raised her hand to her district token and then: cannon.

It is different being a parent with no child. One day you wake up and you're not a parent anymore. When your child is lost in the hunger games, It's a whole different story, because everyone reminds you of your child, it's like she was still there. They treat you like you're made of glass, so fragile and breakable. But I wasn't breakable, at that point I was broken. When she came home with Joanna, who was her mentor of course, Joanna said to me "She is such a strong girl, so brave." Then she realised her mistake and corrected her tenses, and then she apologised for letting her die. But how could I blame her? A girl of only seventeen, broken by the horrors she had to go through, living with the blood on her hands. Joanna was always snarky, but not when it came to this. Death was soon becoming and old and close friend to her. Her own family died in a gas explosion after her victory tour, where she was… rude, to put it nicely. There wasn;t even anything to bury, the poor girl had so much death to deal with. I told her it's ok, because this death was mine to deal with, not hers. My girl won, she did. Not like Joanna, but in her own small way, and she'll be buried beside her mother with pride. But I know Joanna always saw it as hers, visits the grave a lot, of the two tributes she's had, she comes with Blight, and they sit there for really long. Not as long as I do, but long enough.

This year Sphres Owen, a strong fourteen year old with dark brown hair and matching eyes is reaped for the girls, she has an eleven year old sister who begins crying. And then there is Bruce redwood, a quiet smart young man of fourteen who calm;y mounts the stage. Maybe this year there will be two more graves to visit for blight and Joanna, but then we are district seven, so maybe there will be only one.


	9. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

 **POV of the Mayor**

It's been hard to manage district eight for the past few months, and I can only hope the other districts, and especially not the capitol, don't notice the decrease in both quantity and quality of the textiles we've been producing. District eight has never been the most wealthy district, but I don't think we are too far off either. Textiles is a safe product, we aren't affected by change in weather like eleven and nine, or diseases like ten and not mine explosions like twelve. Our life is simple, just harvesting cotton crops and spinning them into textiles for the districts, and for stylist in the capitol.

But that' doesn't mean we aren't angry. The people are very angry. We don't starve, but we never had enough to eat, and it's especially straining when we have to work overtime for the games, producing textiles for their chariot costumes and arena outfits, and of course, eventually the clothes which the tribute dons when they come home in a box.

It's of course not common knowledge to the rest of the districts and the capitol, but when a tribute's chariot costume is ill-received, district eight gets their rations cut for the next half year, though it clearly is not our fault, we merely provide the materials, we don't design anything. And on top of it all they take two children from us every year to send into the hunger games.

Of course we are an angry district.

We've always had the least number of peacekeepers, little place to run to in eight. We'd have to break down quite a few fences for an escape route, so they don't see a need. But I think the capitol knows about eight threatening to rebel, and more peacekeepers have been sent in. I greet them as the mayor, and the number has tripled the last few months, nearing the reaping.

It's getting harder and harder to work this rebellion. When Cecelia and Woof began recruiting people to join in their "activities" rest assured there were no shortage of participants. They'd open their houses to us so we could play some "poker" and have some fun with loud music. When the elections for new mayor came up two years ago, they said someone from our "poker table" had to run.

We needed someone on the inside. Eight has always been rather docile, but when our rations nearly cut in half because of an atrocity of a year when the tributes costumes were openly booed at in the town square, people were suddenly very very angry. If we don't blow now, it'll take perhaps decades to prepare for another rebellion.

I don't think anyone suspects me as a rebel, with a clean streak and good education (as good as it gets in the district) along with my family history of being head of factories, they said I should run. It would look normal, as would my victory.

So I tell the peacekeepers when they come in that Cecelia and Woof have tendencies to have parties, inviting various people from the district over. I tell them it would be fine if they wanted to do the same in their peacekeeper headquarters, and every friday night I hear music from their sector as well.

I approve phone calls which need to be made to other victors, because a victor has to look presentable, so very often they would call and discuss fashion tips with our district eight victors.

I think it was when the rebels couldn't keep their mouths shut that there was trouble. Once or twice I would say that district eight has it ways, and the language they were using was meant to be endearing! and in no way disrespectful. But when they outrightly insult snow, I can't do anything but watch the whippings day after day.

Most of the rebels are from the factories, the overworked ones who starve when a capitulate stylist does a poor job. The harvesters are better off, perhaps the fresh air does good, so few of them are rebels, though friends and family of those who are reaped are happy to join forces. We have enough to fight, but the time is not right, and I can only hope I'll be able to retain this position till it is.

The leaders of our little poker table are Donny Quinn and Doug Buckram, their normal citizens, don't raise much suspicion, but grew up poor enough to fill their bellies with anger. They think we're ready to rebel, but Cecelia urges us to wait for information from the other victors. I don't go for the meetings, but Cecelia and Woof bring over cookies once in awhile, saying we were friends before I was elected in office.

A few months before the reaping they banned parties and Woof and Cecilia's house, saying that it was causing a racket and the late nights were bad for productivity levels. Without a platform to disseminate information, people began to recklessly perform acts of rebellion. There have been riots and fights,and the hospitals are getting busy.

Our head Nurse Paylor is one of us, the peacekeepers are fond of her, and when she drops by to give me my medicine, she tells me that drowsy peacekeeper tell her that they know more than we think they do. My first priority is to make sure the people stop before they get themselves killed, and the second is to make sure they don't know I'm playing for the revels.

So i tell the peacekeepers to be more forceful, but not to kill our relatively small population. So there are more whippings and warnings, sometimes a few punches, but no deaths, and the people in the district are tamed.

Or so I thought.

On reaping day this morning, the peacekeepers make me stay in my home and leave our escort with me ,telling me that the reaping is not ready and the adults are refusing to let their children go. I can hear the crowd outside shouting and some of the children crying, but the peacekeeper keeping guard makes sure to block my view.

Cecelia and Woof and stuffed into my house a few minutes later, they looks alarmed and disoriented. I can hear it start to quieten outside, but we are five minutes late to start the reaping.

They lead us all on stage, and I'm told I will not be making the speech due to the time constraints. I notice that the children are in the square, adn the parents obideintly lining it. I almost don't notice the peacekeepers who have trained their guns on the children.

The escort reaches straight into the bowl and pulls out Doug Buckram's eldest daughter Annabelle Buckram. She's seventeen. Next he pulls out Donny Quinn's eldest son, Dowlas Quinn. He's fourteen.

They know, the capitol knows.

The minute he announces them as tributes, all hell breaks loose and people are shouting and the peacekeepers keep jerking their guns, threatening to shoot. The tributes are herded indoors and the shouting gets louder. I hear a gunshot and a scream,a dn a sixteen year old child is clutching her knee, it's bleeding badly.

People run to her aid, but mostly the shouts just get louder and children are crying.

"Stop! Everyone Stop this at once!" I'm surprised my voice booms so loudly. "District Eight, please maintain your peace!" _or you're going to get yourselves killed before the actual rebellion._ 'What do you think you're all doing?" _This is not the time for a rebellion, not yet!_ "All citizens please go back to your quarters, you are under curfew until further notice." _because if I leave you here you'll all be arrested, you'll be told when it's time to fight_. "Dismissed. Now."

Everyone streams back to their houses and the head peacekeeper thanks me for maintaining the peace. No doubt Snow will hear about this by noon and more peacekeepers will start streaming in. i apologise to him for my district misconduct, and I tell him I will keep them tamed. I hope he tells snow that.

Cecelia and Woof give me grateful smiles before heading back to victor's village.

It's not even noon when they triple our number of peacekeepers.

* * *

AN: As you know, district eight was one of the first districts to rebel, as Katniss witnessed during her victory tour, so just wanted to reflect the beginnings of it, and how they hold out for one more year.


	10. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

 **POV of a farmer**

I'd say district nine is a rather slow district. I don't mean like slow up there, I mean like slow in moving and what not Heck, we plant the seeds and watch them slowly grow. Then we slowly harvest them and slowly load them up to the trains, which slowly pulls out of our district.

We even win the games slowly. We won the third, I don't know how that happened, but I know because we only have three winners. It was a long slow wait till the next one, the thirty first. Then again to the fifty seventh. Both the games I watched, we waited alot. That's what we do. Wait till there's few people left, then use out sickles to hit them hard, like we're plowing the land or something. Not that I think it's alright to kill another boy or girl or anything, but I'm just saying it like it is.

The Hunger Games have been around for a long time. Every year they take two fielders and throw them into the Arena. It's always fielders, because anyone else is too rich to take the extra grains for more slips. But fielders, nah, we don't get by so well. It's hard work, having to plow the land, and then putting the seeds in and watering them, and then waiting for them to grow and harvesting. But nah, we don;t rest when they grow, there's always more land to plant on. Always.

We need the kids to start working at 10. We barely meet the quota the capitol gives us, and we can't afford not to. Few decades ago when I was a little boy, we had terrible weather, no water, sun too bright, crops don't do so good like that. The capitol cut our food and rations, the poorer ones died. There were many poorer ones. We lost good fielders to that time. Had to work even harder to recover from need the kids too, there's so much to do. We need to harvest and plow, as well as keep the pests away. We used to be able to use pesticides, did the job real well too, but then the Capitol said they didn't want the people to be consuming pesticides, which have around a 1% chance of being on the actual plant. But that's alright too, people always go sick from the spraying. So since then we had to chase the bugs away ourselves, and make sure the birds don't go at it either.

I think district nine is one of the larger districts, like ten and eleven. We need all the land to grow the food on, and I think it takes six hours on foot to walk from one side of the district to another, which is why us in the East don't know those who live in the west. And We don't have cars or anything like that, It's bad for the plants, the fumes that come out. So we walk everywhere very slowly. We can't do anything that's bad for the plants, peacekeepers find out they'll come and catch you, whip you at the post and find a way to bring news to the edges of the district that someone was whipped. Sometimes when the weather is real hot, people want to steal water from our irrigation systems. There's plenty really, the plants here are treated better than the people.

On every plot of land there's an irrigation, so the plants never go thirsty. It goes off twice a day, once at noon and once at midnight. Alot of water is stored there, nice clean fresh water, cleaner and fresher than any of us in the districts have had. The capitol makes the peacekeepers guard to make sure all the freshest water go to the crops. We get rainwater which we collect and a small ration every day when we have to work in the hot sun. We start at seven int he morning, and we can't stop until eight in the evening, any less and we don't meet the quota. But working is for the young people, I'm old, I sit here and supervise because I can barely lift the sickle and I'm of no use.

But I've kept it this far, watching over the kids and telling them the right techniques, they bring me some food and water in their free time, and I manage to get by. My son and daughter and both fielders, they try to bring back some grains too, and I keep alive. Not many people my age survive in nine, once you can'tlife the sickle to work, you're useless and you don't get rations anymore. That means no food and no water, and you know the rest. Not everyone has children, this is a hard life to raise children into.

It's noon soon, and noon is everyone's favorite time, its when the irrigation comes on and the workers are sprayed with cold water on the hot sunny days. Its only second to rainy days at work where the breeze is strong and the sun is blocked. But that don't happen much. Nine is dry as a bone, almost all year round.I don't know if the other districts have rain or snow and the in between, but we don't. Maybe that's why the capitol makes us do the planting. Our grains would never survive the cold winters and when the crops die, we die.

But I see the people packing to go soon. Today we have the reaping. We don't need to work today, but most people still do, so maybe we can work a little less on other days and still meet the quota. But that's just the adults. The kids are always busy getting ready. I don't have anyone to worry for today, my boy and girl are all well above reaping age and their kids aren't old enough. Was tough seeing them through all six reapings though, but it turned out all good in the end. From the west it takes three hours to travel on foot to the Square, and the reaping is four hours away, so everyone is washing up. But I'm leaving soon, you don't walk as fast with a cane, so my kids always take me early. We'll take a slow walk there.

The walk is long as usual, and by the time everyone reaches their sweating like pigs from our heat and tired out from the walks. Almost no one lives near the square. The luckier ones are around an hour away,. Like I said, nine is big. This year the lady is in red, like the devil herself. That's how most of the district sees her, its she who choses who dies.

This year she picks Maysie Emmer and Aman Miller.

I don't know the Emmer girl. But The Miller boy lives in the west too. Works the fields, strong enough, but he's still tiny compared to the eighteens. Takes a long time for children to grow with so little food. Maybe I'll drop by the Millers later, tell them I'm sorry for their loss.

The tributes are led away, and our district begins our slow walk home.

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AN: This was a hard chapter, I'm running out of POV and I need help with 11 and 12, give suggestions if y'all have!


	11. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

POV of Matthew Evans

Today's not a real day for us.

Our real days start at five in the morning because the roosters don't shut up, and soon its a symphony of animals screaming for your attention. But for some reason today our rooster, Sunny, knows to keep his damn beak shut. And the rest of our animals do as well. On real days we begin milking the cows and feeding the chickens and the pigs, making sure the goats are grazing well and keeping the wolves and snakes away. Sounds like a lot of work, and it is, but we've got many hands, with 6 brothers and a sister.

That's how it is in ten, we all have big families, to work on our own plot of land. you need enough hands or you'll struggles. Like the McHawks, when Mrs McHawk had her third kid, there were complications which the district doctor can't fix. She can't have any more kids, though they've been trying. I heard the children wake up at four and finish work at midnight. That's a tough life.

I know district life is supposed to be hard, but it ain't that bad to me. Sure, I have to share my tiny house with 9 other people, but there's always the hen house and the haystack to sleep in, and it's alright. My brothers are a pain in my hind, but they do their work, so its not too hard on any of us. We all work 5 days a week and we go to school on weekends. All my brothers are over eighteen, so they don't go to school anymore, but they follow any way, and after that we'll play racing around the square. I might be the smallest, but I'm the fastest too, I got a good pair of legs on me. My sister likes school alot more than I do, she likes reading and calculating, wants to become a big shot when she grows up.

But no one grows into a big shot in this district. Most of us grow up and have 8 kids, if you're slightly better off than maybe you'll be a vet for the sick animals, and for the sick people as well actually. That's about as good as it gets in this district.

It's been hard on the family this week, we lost our favorite cow to the slaughter house. She was a gorgeous thing with black eyes and pure while skin, which almost shone in the sun. She was growing so well and so big, and she gave us the very best milk of course. We realized she was going to hit weight limit, and starved her to our best ability, but she hit it last week end, feeding on the grass was enough, she didn't need our hay. So the slaughter house came for her, and there's not a thing we can do about it.

It hit May the hardest, I think she loved that cow more than anything. The rest of us are back to feeding the chickens and milking other cows, but Mays been avoiding milking duty, switching it for pig feeding and wolf watching. We don't have too many wolves here, but we gotta be careful. Every time an animal dies we lose some we learn to shoot wolves. My aim's pretty good, I'm handy with the gun. In fact, many of us in district ten are, but they never give us guns in the games. That's why we've only had four victors.

I guess ten isn't too bad off, we're strong from carrying the heavy buckets of feed everyday, and from all the farm work around. It's gotten us some stamina too. Keep moving from seven till eight at night or so. And we're wary in the dark. At night we have to watch for wolves and snakes, we know how to listen for them. The rustles in the bushes and how to identify paw prints and the distinctive imprint of a snakes long body. I guess that's why we win the games sometimes. The careers may have trained all their lives, but we have life long lessons too. Just different ones.

"Matty I'm real scared." Of course she is, May has always been the baby of the family, and since Mason turned nineteen this year, it's been the two of us alot. "I know you are darling, but it'll be alright you know." She's two years below me, fourteen. May has always been rather small, but she can lift buckets of feed like they weight nothing. But I know she's scared, she wouldn't survive if she was picked.

"Matty are you scared?"

I'm not scared of many things. You can't be in ten.

You can't be scared of worms because you got to feed them to the chickens.

You can't be scared of animals because we're ten

You can't be scared of the dirt, because those animals are full of it, and usually at the end of the day you will be too.

You can't be scared of charging animals because if you think at all instead of run, you'll be dead.

You can't be scared of guns, because you need to shoot the wolves. And well that means you can't be scared of wolves either.

You can't be scared of the dark because you need to keep watch for those rattle snakes, can't have them eating your animals.

But there's one thing everyone in ten is scared of: The reaping.

"Aw May, you know me, I'm so strong, you'll never see me scared!" She flashes me a small smile, but it's clear she's still terrified.

"But hey, you wanna know a secret? I'm real, real scared May." She smiles more at this, I guess the thought of having someone scared with her is comforting. With most of my brothers out of the reaping, i had to take alot of tesserae this year. When There were 5 of us in the reaping, it wasnt so bad, but Now I have to take 4, an May has to take many as well. I only worry when I'm out and May has to take it for all of us. But hopefully by then we'll be bringing in more money with the milk we've been selling,and more from the slaughterhouse since they say we've got some good meat.

Before we know it, our mother is calling for us, we need a good twenty minutes to walk to the square. My brothers are already there, chasing each other around, I would usually join, but not today. Today I have to look my best.

When we reach the square, I bring May to sign in and she runs of with her friends. I run of with mine. I don't have many friends, no one in ten really does. We're more of a family kind of district. Since our families are huge, we don't need more friends. But Cody and I just hit it off. We're in the same year at school, we both love chicken duty, hate wolf watching, and run pretty fast. We've been friends for as long as I remember.

Cody's family isn't as big as mine, there's only 6 of them kids, and all are out of the reaping, Cody has two more years. Cody's dad owns the slaughterhouse, so he's not too bad off, and I don't think he takes tesserae. Kids hate him for that, but I don't, It's just the way it is, and he's a swell guy.

"How many slips you got in?" He asks me. "Too many to count I say." But of course I count It's twenty-five slips in for me. Not too many, but not too little either. She could very well draw my name. But I wasn't about to tell that to Cody. "Well don't worry Matt, there's kids with plenty more than you." I just nod in return.

The escort talks about how he hopes for another Victor this year, following Jordan Chesters who won last year. But he got real lucky, smart kid though. Good at hand to hand, not all of us are like that, but the escort has high hopes anyway.

Jordan sits on stage. I didn't know the kid before he was reaped last year, but he seemed nice and charming, but on stage now he's anything but. He's serious and solemn, almost... scared. But this name is not in that bowl anymore, mine is.

For the girls she calls Jessie Chesters. She's twelve, and we all know that the odds were in her favor, the Capitol was not however. They love throwing relatives of victors into the mix, just for laughs, and Jessie is just their next victim.

"Matthew Evans!"

 _Cow Crap. That's me._

I'm not even thinking when I run. I make a dash for the woods, behind the city center, maybe I can get lost and they'll reap some other sucker. The peacekeepers chase after me, and It's just like playing with my brothers, and I'm always faster.

I dodge a few of them like I do to my brothers and keep running.

And that's when I feel it. The searing pain up my right leg. But I still try to make a break for it, I'm almost there. But they grab me by the arms and start dragging me. I see the blood on my leg and It instantly feels more painful. I try harder to fight back. I can see the woods! but they drag me further and further away. I start groaning, because my leg hurts so much I wish It was cut off. And the peacekeepers throw me to the ground and my leg is dragging on the concrete.

I'm going into the games. If make it to the stage alive.

My vision is blurry, and I barely register Cody going up on stage. Suddenly the peacekeepers let go and I'm just squirming there on the ground.

I need to say goodbye to Cody. He saved my life.

I ran. But I'll probably never be able to do so again.

And then I think I die.

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AN: So guess who gets reaped next year, and has to go into the games with a serious limp? This chapter was so fun for me! Review and tell me how you liked it! :)


	12. Chapter 13: That Owen Girl

AN: So now we begin looking through the eyes of a very unique District Seven girl. (I've skipped chapter 11 and 12 first) Here's her through the reaping and the goodbyes! Please Review and give comments! :)

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It took her about 10 tries to pronounce my name right. She started with "Seferes" which is the most common I must say, and I didn't go up, because that wasn't me. So she tried a few painful variations: The silent S "Phares" then "Separiz" and "Cyrus" by her sixth try at my name I realise she's calling me.

Owen Owen Owen. How many Owens can she reap? There's only four of us and this is the second time she's called. I'm technically fifteen this year, but my birthday hasn't rolled around yet, so I'm fourteen. That means three slips. Our family doesn't take tesserae we know the edible plants and there are plenty around, we get by alright, never needed to skew the odds. They were supposed to be in my favour, I have three slips. three slips. There are girls with fourty odd slips so why is she calling -

"Citrus Owen! Where are you dear? Come up now, Is it Citrus? Let me spell it, Miss Owens, S - P- H -" I get it. My name. You called my name lady, I'm coming, you can stop now. That's me, the Owen girl, the one with the name no one can seem to pronounce.

I force my feet to move. I'd love to be able to stand here, safe, but they'd drag me up anyway and I can see everyone getting impatient in the square, it's a hot day today, even for summer, and the long dresses and formal pants are very very hot. I'm wearing a simple black dress with slight floral patterns, it was Anya's and I just grew into it this year, It's absorbing heat and I feel like I'm melting. I can't breathe, but I'm not sure if it's because of the damn black dress or if it's because I'm tribute for the seventy third hunger games.

Right and left right and left… walking was never this hard. But then again, dying would definitely be harder. As I walk out of my section, I see the girls looking at me with pity, when I reach the aisle, I straighten my posture and press on the creases on my dress. Everyone is looking at me now. I swallow hard and try to ignore their stares, full of pity and sadness. I feel like I'm attending my own funeral… But then, maybe I am.

The walk to the stage is farther than I'd always thought it was, long enough for me to reflect on my rather short life and ponder heavily my imminent death. I hear Sprite crying in the background, but I try to ignore it. She's already eleven, what kind of eleven year old cries? But I hear her sobbing and choking, calling my name and begging someone to volunteer. "Please! Please! Please don't let her go! Someone please!" I don't see her, but i can visualize her puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks, red from the sun and the crying. She would be in her pink blouse and white fluffy skirt, the set we picked out for her this morning. She doesn't have any slips yet, but she has to go for the reaping and she wanted me to choose her outfit, so she could be my lucky charm.

That did not turn out so well.

Smile, you have to smile.I'm always smiling, It's not hard, but when I try to urve my mouth upwards now it just doesn't work, it's like my face is frozen. I try to bare my teeth a little, and curve the two sides of my mouth upwards. smile, dammit. I hope it doesn't look too forced, I won't fool anyone in seven, but maybe the capitol would buy it. I hold the smile, or at least I try to, but it takes everything in me to not burst out for someone to help me, volunteer, anyone at all. One of the eighteens who should have been reaped maybe, those with almost fifty slips inside. But I hold it, until I reach the stage. I mount the steps slowly, looking down to make sure I don't miss a step, and that's when I realised I'm shaking. Badly. I'm not sure how my legs did it, but they manage to hold my weight up the five steps, and the escort, a lady wearing a brown wig and pink contacts gives me her hand.

I've never been so close to our escort, Donna, before. I've always seen her from afar, with the brown wig she dons to in attempt to look like a district sevener. This year is no different. She has her wig style in waves upwards, it looks so turgid, but so heavy, I wonder how her small head takes the weight. She has white skin. Literally white skin, which contrast greatly with the common olive tones district sevens sport. and heavy pink themed makeup. She's dressed in bright yellow, which basically reflects the bright sunlight, and my eyes take a while to adjust to her reflective appearance.

She gives me a smile, it's not forced, its actually real, and that's the most cruel thing about it. "Ah hello dear!" She tells me softly. Then she brings the mike to her mouth, "Any volunteers?" I look out hopefully at the square. Everyone was looking at me when I was walking up, but no one wants to catch my eye now. Girls look down and fidget with their fingers, It's clear no one is going to raise their hand. I wasn't expecting anyone to volunteer so It doesn't come as a surprise. Just didn't make sense to want to give your life up for a stranger.

She sees the usual quiet response and continues,"Well then! On to the boys." She walks over to the other bowl in her high heels, the clicks they make are deafening. She reaches deep into the bowl and swirls her hand around, making a big spectacle of it.

Just not Fleece, not fleece please. "And the male tribute, Bruce Redwood!" I'm ashamed of how relieved I feel, that Bruce is going to die instead of my brother. I'm sure Bruce has a brother too, maybe a sister, a wonderful pair of parents much like my own, people he likely will never see again. But since I'm dying soon, I allow myself the small happiness and relief I feel that she called his name.

As the crowd parts to let Bruce through, I see him from the stage. He's much taller than me, at least a head or so, though I know we're the same age. He's very toned from heavy lifting, and tanned from the hours working in the sun probably. He's wearing a checkered shirt and long black pants, and his face holds a pained expression. I feel you Bruce. I try to think of everything I can about Bruce, but I come out pretty blank. We're not friends, I don't remember speaking to him before. He's in my year at school, we have woodwork together, that's around it.

He finally reaches the stage and lumbers up the steps, I feel the stage shake slightly when he steps on, probably from the extra weight, and the boy does look like he could weight a little. The escort smiles and returns to the mikestand. "Any volunteers?" Bruce doesn't even look at the crowd, he knows there will be no volunteers. Seven has never had a volunteer, ever.

"And there you have it! The tributes of district seven, Bruce Redwood and…" She looks at me apprehensively. "Sprass, Sprass Owen" I tell her. She relaxes, and I do too. Correcting the pronunciation of my name is something I do all the time, and correcting her made me feel a little better, like I'm not going to die in a few weeks. "And Sphres Owen!" She annouces confidently, looking very satisfied with herself. She turns to us and tells us to "Shake hands!".

It's perhaps a little bit awkward, shaking hands with someone who has to die for you to come home. Never thought of it like that before, being reaped sure gives new perspectives. I wonder if he'll have to kill me. That would suck alot. I mean district partners don't really kill each other, unless you're a career I guess. I mean if I didn't win i sure hope Brude would. I'm sure any other kid from non-career districts would want that, a victor means extra rations for the district and better lives, even if it's just for a year.

I wouldn't kill Bruce, not if i didn't have to, and I really hope he wouldn't kill me too. Obviously if we get to the final two it'll be a different story, but what are the chances… the odds.. of that happening. I wonder how I'll die, if I do. I guess I think about it alot, how I'd like to die in the Hunger Games. I think I'd like it to be fast, at the hands of a tribute. I mean I'd rather not starve or freeze or BURN, please not burning. Forest fires are common here in the summer and they are not pretty. Not many deaths, but some jacks get licked a little by the flames and its just red and boiling and swelling and...ew.

Definitely not by mutts either though, that looks painful and it often involves running before and a world of pain before your cannon goes off. And I wouldn't want to be shipped back like that in pieces. Something clean would do, I hope i don't see it coming, and suddenly I'm in Heaven with Anya and we sip nice heaven juice and eat till we get too heavy for the clouds. Snap of the neck, that would be nice, I'll come back nicely, in one piece. The hell. "A snap of the neck would be nice." I'm not even thinking anymore. What kind of tribute plans her own death like, 5 minutes after she gets reaped? Me of course. haha. I realise I've been spacing out largely and the parade square is clearing.

The peacekeepers bring me to the justice building with Bruce, and stuff me in a room for my visitors. I've never been in this room before, It's probably the most lavish thing I've ever been in. The chair is soft and a very pretty shade of red, not like gross blood red but kind of softer, more subdued kinda red, like almost brown I guess? but not the kind of brown of the soil where it looks dirty but like softer like damp tree barks in the spring. And when you run your hands over it its like petting a soft animal, maybe a rabbit? but not quite as soft, perhaps a baby deer, that's more like it, definitely, it's nowhere as furry as a rabbit. The room is painted a lovely soft green as well, the kind that just relaxes you and makes you want to lean back into this soft, soft chair. And the light is some fancy dangling thingy, not our usually burning splint. But then again there isn't a need for light here cause sunlight streams through the windows. The curtains are up, some see through cloth things. and the door, its polished wood. In most houses the doors are just plain pieces of wood, chopped into a rectangle and messily hinged on, but this one is all nice and shiny and the polish is so heavy I can almost see myself inside.

This is an amazing room, I can't believe I'm actually here I mean… "Sphres! Sphres!" Sprite burst into the room crying, with my parents and my brother Fleece following closely behind her. Fleece is the saddest I've seen the rascal, mom's eyes are wet, and Dad as always is trying to pull himself together for us.

She throws herself into my arms in a big hug, much, much longer than usual. "Sphres you need to come back."

I do. I do want to come back very much. Seven is home. It's not perfect but it's home and I want to come back.

"You come back you promise?" She looks up at me with her watery eyes and her tear stained cheeks. She's twelve next year, and her first reaping will be terrifying, I just wish I could be there for her… with her. Going through it with her. I'd have four slips and she would have one, but It doesn't matter because she could have a thousand slips and if she was picked I'd just volunteer. We were always close, me and sprite, grew up together, playing in the woods, carving thick branches into human forms and giving them names, and stories.

When she was seven she climbed too high on a tree and was too scared to come down, almost like a cat. She was hugging it with all fours and shivering, but none of us could go up and get her, the branches were too thin and they'd break under the weight. So I shouted to her that's she's a magical fairy and she had the ability to go further than anyone else, even me, and she didn't have to be afraid because she's smart and magical, and she can get down, it was safe. It took a lot of coaxing, but eventually she calmed down and climbed down. Climbing is second nature here, no biggie, she could do it, she was just scared. Scared like she is now.

"Sprite listen, you're going to go further and soar higher than everyone else, even me okay? Remember that hmm? You be good to mom and dad ok, and you can have Mr Kiggles if you're good, and my pillow! It's going to be real nice you're… you're going to be alright." She's wanted Mr Kiggles for a long time, a wooden carving of a rabbit I did awhile back. I put it on my desk, just for show, it just sits there. I know she really likes it, but would never ask me for it. And my pillow, an empty sack I stuffed with lavender flowers so it'll smell nice. She has one too, it's full of daisies, but I know she likes lavenders better. I give a hopeful smile. "But I don't want Mr Kiggles and your pillow, I want you to promise you'll come home"

This is the first time I've taken the prospect of coming home… of winning the games, seriously. I mean I'm fourteen going fifteen, and how many of those win? But I am from seven. I know everything there is to know about survival. I'm not good with an axe, though I pretend I am, but I am familiar with the weapon, and I'm good with a knife, not bad I suppose. But I'm tiny, and everyone towers over me, the careers can and might snap me like a toothpick. I'm hopeless at hand to hand combat. I'm also really clumsy, so I might fall and explode before countdown. Yeah, my chances of coming home aren't very good right now.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I can do that." I can't let one of the last few things I say to her be a lie. And I honestly don't think I'll make it back. She frowns," So you're just going to give up and be like Anya?" I don't know why, but that stings. It's not even an insult on me but it stings a lot, coming from her at least. I think she sees the hurt on my face, and she lightened up, "She said she was going to come home, she promised, but she lied. And I hope you're lying about not coming home too."

Anya's been like a distant memory for me. It's not that I don't remember how we used to play, how she used to take care of us, how there used to be four of us instead of three. In fact, I remember everything. Her bright smile and her kind eyes, how she couldn't keep a harsh face for too long when scolding us, how she taught us how to carve, and how to track... I know how to track, tracking is useful in the Arena, when Anya was in the Arena she tracked alot. Ah yes - that's it, the only thing I don't remember about Anya is how she died.

I think I've spent the last seven year vigorously erasing the time she spent in the Arena. I think we all have. We wanted to keep her as a happy memory, a once upon a time fairy tale. Of course we watched the games, watch her make it to the final 8, and then watched her being strangled by the male from two. When she came back the bruises were gone, it was almost like she was sleeping. So peaceful, so perfect.

Anya Owen has been a dream for a long long time, and now she's suddenly real again.

"I don't think I can, I really don't want to" say it, Sphres Say it. I can't force the word out. I can't kill. "Sphres you listen, you do whatever you have to, you do whatever you can to come home. We love you, no matter what you do. We don't want to lose you. Just, please try. Try to come home". I know what dad is saying, he's saying it's ok. I can kill, they'll forgive mom and Spirte both nod, trying to affirm me. But it was never my family's approval I needed to kill. It's my own.

It was like that for Anya too. I saw her struggling to bring the knife down, even when she had them pinned. She'd never done it. Every Time, she would knock them out and run as fast she could as far as she could, right up till the day she died.

But I nod back anyway. Like hey thanks for giving me familial permission to kill I'll keep that in mind. "You take care alright. You take care and you fight. You know how to track, you know your way around survival and an axe. You're likable, you'll get lots of sponsors you'll… you'll be ok you know." At this point I know that my family is trying to comfort themselves more than me. But they've already lost one child to the games, they're just in denial that they'll be losing another.

"I'm sorry." This is the first time Fleece has spoken, and probably the nicest thing he's ever said to me. "Don't be." I say. I mean I guess he should be a little hes quite the lumberjackass but he's my brother. He's my lumberjackass. So he shouldn't be, we're family. I know he was hoping I wasn't going to get reaped, like I was hoping he wouldn't. He nods and stays silent.

The envelope me in a tight family hug, and I exhale the breath I've been holding for really long, I comes out in a sad, forlorned sigh. "Time's up, next visitor." The peacekeeper calls from outside. They began to cry as they leave, and I occurs to me that maybe I should be crying too. But I don't. I don't know why, I've never been the most emotional person perhaps. I don't cry a lot, I means its a little awkward. Ironic how I'm dying soon but I think crying is awkward. I mean It'd be totally justified, but I just don't do it you know? I've never cried, not even when Anya died, or when a branch came falling and hit me real hard on the head.

The door creaks open and familiar faces pop in. A few friends I barely know, the "I'm sorry you're dying I know we aren't so chummy but I'll say bye" kind of friends, not that I mind, it's a nice gesture. A few jacks who work with my father, tell me I'm a good kid, and wish me all the best. And of course those who weren't the kindest to me "I'm sorry I was a jerk to you but now you're dying and I feel bad so I'll be a jerk to someone else instead." JERKS. A few of my closer friends, we talk about the trees and classic gossip, they leave with sad smiles and good wishes.

Lastly, Maple and Sassha come in. We've been friends for very long, I'm not sure why, I can't even remember how we met, but I can't imagine life if we didn't. "You have a token raz?" Sphres is a little hard to swallow so most people call me Raz. Contrary to popular belief, I hate it, but it's ok when they do it. But wow I totally forgot that tokens were a thing.

"No." What else is there to say. They look at me, amused.

"Here. Maybe you'll want to take this." Maple hands me a little pine. The it smells like home. I stick it into my hair and it sticks easily. it's like how people put flowers in their hair, but instead it's, you know, a pine. These are common ins district seven, they're all over, once, a long time ago, we were laying down on the ground, and when we got up, our hair was full of pines, that's when we realised they made excellent hair accessories, sticking very very well. It's always been our little secret.

"And here, this too." Sassha holds out a pine, and sticks it on my hair for me. "One for luck, and one for strength Raz." Maple says with a sad smile. "And both to remind you of home." Sassha adds on. We sit there in comfortable, sad silence, until I can't take it anymore.

"Ah giving me a headstart on camouflage I see, very smart, I like it." I casually say, but the comment about the games causes the room to tense up, and for the first time in forever there's an uncomfortable silence. "Look Raz, We're sorry we didn't" Maple gets stuck but I know what she wants to say, I'm sorry we didn't volunteer to die in your place.

"it's alright, I wouldn't have let you anyway." That was a lie. I might have let them, but I wouldn't be happy about it, probably live my life in guilt and pain.

"You can come back you know." I almost laugh. I've just had this conversation with my family, reasoned it out with myself.

"I've thought about this. I can't. You have to be serious. A fourteen from seven isn't going to win anything." I say in all seriousness. I wasn't kidding, not this time.

"We are being serious. You can. Think about it. No one fights like you do and no one plays the game you play." I seriously consider this again. No one plays the game I play. I actually have no idea what game I play. But i get what she means. I'm different. I've always been. My mind might be sharper than my axe (because I don't sharpen that) and well I'm the only girl I know who's like me. I think different, no one can predict me.

I've spent an awful lot of time today intensely contemplating if I should hope to win. My ideas fluctuate from coming home victor to dying during chariot rides, but in the end I decide to approach it cautiously optimistic. Has a nice ring to it.

I might win, but I might not. But I'm not counting myself out just yet. I'm hoping.

It's almost like my friends see my contemplation and are satisfied at my response. I don't say anything but they go,"Good one girl. You know you got this." "Luck of a four leaf. Be safe". And then they're gone.

The room is silent again, and I'm alone. I think my angle for the games definitely has to be likable, It's something I need to play up. I'm not going to be able to pull anything else off. In training I'll need to concentrate on -

"Follow me tribute." A peacekeepers come and lead me to the car. Tribute he called me. I guess I don't have a name anymore. I'll be know by my district, as a tribute. I'll be the district seven female.

Bruce is there already, his eyes are a little wet, most likely from crying. He'll be the district seven male.

I give him a small smile. I feel like in the last 2 hours I've relived my life sufficiently, and I'm grateful that I've said goodbye to everyone who needed it. I never though 2 hours would be enough to say goodbye, but it was.

I look over at Bruce, I wonder if it was enough time for him. Maybe his family was huge, maybe he had a girl waiting for him, probably had friends, maybe some of mine were his too. Maybe I'll ask him on the train.


	13. Chapter 14: Little Miss Difficult

AN: I think you'll find some familiar characters in this chapter, enjoy! :)

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I've never seen the tribute train before, It's huge and shiny and different from the lumber trains which come to collect wood. the door is metal and it makes a large swoosh sound when it opens. Bruce heads over to the window immediately, and I spend some time looking at the fancy lights, trying out a few of the soft looking chairs. They felt just like the ones in the Justice building, maybe even softer. I then decide to go over and join Bruce, who's looking at the pines outside. I touch my hair once again, to make sure the pines are still there. Of course they are, they don't drop.

"So Bruce, right?" He looks at me curiously. Maybe I pronounced it wrong. But then how else a Bruce be pronounced. "Yes. Bruce." He replies curtly. Ah, not the talkative type I see, well it's not going to stop me from trying.

"Hi! I'm Sphres, Sphres Owen." I give him a smile. I wonder if he recognises me from school. He nods and looks out the window.

The train hasn't started moving yet so it's just some trees and a few birds. I continue trying. "I mean, this is crazy right? How often is it that a fourteen gets reaped and there's two of us and everything. I know you're fourteen case we have woodwork together, guess your birthday hasn't come either. When is it by the way?" He doesn't respond, just looks at me real confused. Maybe the question was too hard and he didn't catch it? Oh gosh this is really awkward.

"So do you have a girl waiting for you back home? Maybe I know her!. And your family? I'm sure they came to say goodbye how-"

"Why are you talking to me?" Well he catches on fast. "I mean we are stuck with each other for the next two weeks, so maybe we should be friends." I say and paste on my usual hopeful smile. Maybe it's a genuine smile now, the initial horror of being reaped and potentially dying is over and I'm in this middle ground.

"Friends? You want to be friends? God, how dumb can you be? We'll be dead in a few weeks and you want to be friends? You want to see your friends die is that how it is?" He practically shouts this and he leans over me and raises his hands in an exaggerated manner. Oh how rude of him to raise his voice at me like that. I was just trying to be friendly. If I wasn't so angry at his outburst maybe I'd notice that he was making a lot of sense.

"Well I'm sorry I'm not wallowing in self pity like you are! Don't shout at me for trying to be nice!" I shout back, holding my ground and glaring at him, though he's much taller, so I have to look up to do it. I realize he's taller than me and probably a lot stronger, and I regret lashing out at him. The things he could do to me.

But he doesn't do anything, instead he steps back and takes a deep breath. His brown eyes softens, then flinch away and look down.

"Look, I'm sorry It's just a very stressful situation and I don't have much time to live so I just…" He struggles to continue, trying to get the point across my moving his hands.

But I understand. I actually understand what he means. Being put in a life or death situation indeed can be stressful, I guess I can't hold it against him for shouting.

"it's alright. I mean how many chances are you going to have to make friends anyway? I mean you can look at it as me seeing all my friends die, but then I'll be dead too, and maybe we can have a party in heaven you know." I don't think before I say it,I mean it was my logic.

"And if there's anyone who understands what you're going through it's me, and I personally, could use a friend." He actually smiles at this. "Well, never heard anyone think about it that way before. And yeah, I could use a friend too."

The train began to move while we were.. conversing, and it was gaining speed, the trees speed by in a blur and both of us stare out the window, watching as District seven and it's trees becomes smaller and smaller. Might very well be the last time I'm seeing seven, so I look until our tall lumbering trees are just dots and what's in front of us is general forested area.

"July." Bruce says suddenly. I'm a little confused by this. "My Birthday is in July."

Ah. He's answering the questions.

"No girls waiting at home, unless you count my mom that is. I have her and my dad. My Brother Spruce and our rabbit, Tiger." I giggle at that. I mean, It's hilarious. But I was right, he did have a brother. "huh, Spruce and Bruce, they rhyme. I like it. How old is he?" I ask. "He's nineteen this year, survived the reapings. I guess I wasn't so lucky."

The conversation takes an uncomfortable turn, and I don't really know what to say to that.

"I guess I'm not so lucky either."

It was the best I could come up with, and I guess it worked. He seemed to lighten up a little and we're back sitting in comfortable silence looking out the window. "Neither is anyone else in my family" I whisper. Spruce was lucky, luckier than Anya. "What's that?" Of course he heard me. I inwardly sigh. "My sister, the sixty sixth games, she didn't make it." Brutally short. The only things I could choke out and I put all my concentration of the trees outside, trying to identify them, but we're moving too fast.

"What was her name?" he asks gently. "Anya." Anya Owen. "I'm sure Anya was very brave. and now you'll have to be too." Now I'll have to be too.

I like this boy, he says good things.

"I guess so. We both have to be." I flash and smile and we go back to looking out the window.

We talk about a lot of things, where we lived, I lived in the pines, and he at the oaks. Our favourite trees: mine is the sycamore and his is the classic Birch.

He tells me he found his rabbit injured in a trap near his house, took him in and cleaned him up, but he has a scar where the trap dug in, made it look like a little fluffy tiger. It's a cute story and I laugh as he tells it. He tells me how they brought the rabbit to say goodbye and he rubbed its foot, because rabbit feet are supposed to be good luck. It was what he got instead of the token. I tell him about the pine in my hair. "I didn't notice that, thought it was just another hair accessory!" He's very nice and tells me that he likes it and it matches my skin.

We continue looking out the window. It's not trees anymore, it's a lot of buildings and I assume we are pulling into district six. It's been a few hours perhaps, so I'm not surprised.

"I guess you and our mentors are all that's left from home now." He's right. When there were trees, it was still home, but now it's grey and black, and I'm sure it wouldn't smell like pine. It wasn't home anymore. I only have Bruce left.

And the mentors. I forgot about them. We have have 5 victors, 4 are still alive. 3 males and 1 female. This year the mentors are Blight for the male and Johanna Mason for me. I wince at the thought of Johanna, she's always so mean and sarcastic on TV, I wonder if she's really like that in real life. But no matter how she is, she's my lifeline and I'll need her to like me. She adopted an interesting strategy, really no one saw it coming, not in the capitol, but I think it was clear in district seven that Johanna knew her way around the axe. I wonder what she'll ask me to do.

Our escort, a lady whose name I've never managed to remember, calls us to dinner. She leads us to the dining hall, and tells us how sweet she thinks we are. I smile and nod a lot, Bruce loses interest half way.

She says her name is Donna and she thinks we make just the most adorable district pair.

I appreciate the kind thought, but not that I don't still blame her for pulling my name out of that fishbowl.

"Come on now, your mentors are waiting there for you! Ben, Blight is a wonderful man, I'm sure you'll take very well to him." Bruce doesn't even correct her, he just nods. "And Sparse Johanna is… A little difficult, but I'm sure she will love a lovely girl like you!" "Its pronounced Sprass." I correct her robotically.

A little difficult.

When we come to the table Johanna and Blight are already sitting there. Blight is absentmindedly playing with the peas on his plate. Letting out sounds of worry when ti strays too far to the edge. Johanna is sitting with her arms crossed, eying us up and down. And she does not look impressed.

Why don't I get blight. I inwardly curse. I sit opposite her and Bruce opposite Blight, Donna takes the head of the table. She clears her throat, "Blight, Johanna, these are the tributes, Bruce and Spears. I'm sure you'll find them satisfactory, look at them, such sweet children-" "Can it Donna." Johanna snaps. Blight looks up and Donna keeps quiet immediately, an uncomfortable smile on her face.

Donna turns to us. "Well these are your mentors of course and they will be great help during the duration of the games of course." And then there is the most awkward silence I've ever had to sit through. We all pick at our food and eating complete total silence. I can't do this, I have to break it.

"Hi Miss Mason and Mr Blight." I have no idea what Blights surname is, It has never crossed my mind. "I'm Sphres, and this is Bruce, I believe we are your tributes for the year."

Blight laughs,"Oh my, how charming, I'm sure she'll be wonderful to work with, eh Jo?" Johanna gives a smirk "She wouldn't last 10 seconds in the Arena." She pauses. "Neither will he. Bloodbath deaths. Both of them, I call it." Blight looks horrified, and I'm sure everyone does.

I guess it's true that I'm probably the smallest and most hopeless tribute she's had to mentor. In the seventieth games, when she gained her first tribute, it was a strong eighteen year old who was good with an axe of course. Made it all the way to the final few before the flood came and Annie Cresta won, and the seventy first was a seventeen year old who held out pretty long before a career strangled her, and last year the girl was eighteen again, very strong, we had high hopes for her, but she got ahead of herself and rushed into the bloodbath. And me, I'm tiny, weak. I- No no no no I can't be a bloodbath death.

"Now now Johanna, the kids are right here, they shouldn't-" "Shouldn't what Mr Blight? Shouldn't face up to the reality that they are going to die?"

I can't believe this, she isn't even trying. She's just giving up on me, she's going to let me die. I'm going to die now, but i can't. I can't. "I might die." I say it so softly I'm surprised they heard it over their arguing. They both look at me with unreadable expressions.

"I might. But I'm going to fight. I'm going to try. And You have to help me." I look at Bruce, he urges me on. "Help us. Miss Mason, with all due respect, I'm sure you've been here before. You were a tribute once would you like it if your mentor gave up on you like that? Told you to… SUCK IT AND DIE?" My anger and bravery wavers slightly, but I try to continue. "I haven't given up on myself. It took the whole day, but I'm not going to give up on myself. Please don't give up on me either. Please." Johanna stands up without a word and storms out.

Well I blew it.

Maybe there's still a chance. If Blight can take me and Johanna takes Bruce, maybe that'll work out. I bite my lip nervously, this is not good, not good at all. "I'm sorry Mr Blight, I didn't mean to…" "It's alright Sphres" He interrupts. Rude. "You didn't do anything wrong, I think she-"

Hates you and she's going to let you die

Hates people in general, but you in particular.

Thinks you're a lost cause, and maybe we can't blame her for that.

Doesn't like being sassed at by dying fourteen year olds.

"likes you! She's just a little hasn't had anyone say that to her before, not any of her previous tributes at least. I think you just surprised her there, she'll get over it."

I did not expect him to say that.

"She likes what?" I almost shout. She likes me? Ridiculous.

Blight laughs heartily," I think she likes you m'girl! Its clear you have some fight in you, lots of potential too. Hard not to like a tribute with a chance."

A tribute with a chance. He thinks I have a chance.

"Thank you Mr Blight." I say with a smile.

"It's Mr Light actually. Bart Light. ." Oh. "But Bart is a terrible name, everyone laughs, so please, Blight will do." I smile. "Thank you Blight."

Blight notices Bruce's presence at the table. "So were you to friends before the reaping? you seem to be rather chummy." I look at Bruce and smile. "No, but we're friends now." For the rest of our lives probably. our short short lives. Blight eyes us warily. "Are you from the mills or Aisle?" Bruce answers first,"I'm from the Aisles. My family sells and repairs axes and saws." The Aisles are the richer part of the district, where the shops are. Most of us live in the mills, so there's less travel distance and we save on transport. There's only an Aisle of shops, where the richer kids are. I should have guessed Bruce was an Aisle kid, he was well fed and had a pet rabbit. Who even has the money to keep a pet.

"And you?" Blight and Bruce both turn to me. "Neither actually. I live in the pines." This is new to both of them and they look at me curious. "There are a few houses in the forests, simple small ones. From before the dark days. Belonged to my great Grandfather. We live there, we work at the mills and we school like the others." It's not widely known there are houses in the forest. The district is huge, one of the bigger ones, and no one really keeps track.

"That's very very interesting! District Seven sure is amazing!" Donna attempts to join the conversation, rather unsuccessfully. I give her a sympathetic smile and she lights up immensely. She's not all bad.

Blight and Bruce finish Early and excuse themselves, leaving me and Donna at the table. I'm a slow eater and the food is new to my stomach, so I'll take my time. Donna clears her throat. "Sapphire, I've been an escort to district seven the past 10 years."

For the hundredth time today, I am incredibly confused. The information she offered was so irrelevant, I can barely stop myself from rudely asking why I would care.

"And I remember, for the sixty-sixth games." Don't say it. "I reaped your sister I believe."

I bite my lip hard.

Anya Anya Anya.

Today has been all about Anya. She sees my face and hurriedly continues. "What I wanted to say dear, is that your sister was a good person. Till the very end.I'm sorry you lost her."

"She wouldn't be lost if you didn't reap her. Like I wouldn't be here if you didn't reap me."

I couldn't stop myself from saying it. Donna flinches at my words and I feel sorry. I wasn't her fault she picked our names. She was just doing her job, a sick twisted job, but Donna has been nice to be so far, and I'm not one to repay kindness with anything less than.

"I'm sorry Donna. It wasn't your fault." It's President Snows, he killed her and he was going to kill me too.

She smiles. "It's alright dear." "I'm glad you remember Anya. Thank you for that." It's true. Even our family tried to reduce her to a dream, but Donna remembered her.

It's like something clicks in her and she's suddenly all excited and jumpy again, telling me about how there's so much to do before we reach, and even more after. I just retire to my room, which she tells me is 2 train doors one, on the right, opposite Bruce's.


	14. Chapter 15: The Pinehead of Mine

My room is huge. It's larger than my house was, and far cleaner. The bed is real, with a mattress and It looks soft, like everything has been so far. But I'd give up anything to be home on the hard ground.

My first instinct is to take a shower.

We don't have fancy toilets at home, we collect rainwater and try to finish using it before the mosquitoes come and breed. It's always cold and filled with tiny leaves and occasional petals. I open the closet and pick out a simple T-shirt and the most comfortable pair of pants I see. It's made of some material I've never felt before, and of course It's soft.

I step into the shower and experiment with the buttons. They're annoying. There's no pictures to tell me what does what, it just makes weird unnecessary noises when I pick an option. I stand there naked for three minutes trying to figure it out, before I suddenly panick and reach for my hair. I almost left the pines there, I'll have to be more careful in future. I take them off gingerly and place them on the sink.

I go back in and keep experimenting with the buttons, mostly I just get nice smelling puffs of air which come out to suffocate you and the occasional strong blast of wind. Well that button is for drying. I'll use it later.

Finally I get a steady stream of water going.

It's warm and strong. It just flows, I don't have to keep scooping up more cold dirty water. I press a few buttons and I'm covered in 10 different soaps with scents I'm trying to identify. I can recognise Lavender anywhere, and I think I smell Roses too, there's something citrus, other random fruity smells, and if you sniff hard enough you can smell it: Pine.

I can't remember which button it is though, the buttons are almost identical and I pressed like 10 in a row. But it's alright, a little bit of pine is all I need. I breathe in deeply. The mixture of the scents aren't bad, it smells like trees and fruits. Reminds me of home.

"Oi! Squirt! Can you get out already you've been in there forever." The voice startles me and I slip a bit losing my balance. I grab on the wall and regain it, but not without screaming a little.

"Aw, did I scare you? Get out soon squirt. I need to talk to you." I can't hear very clearly and the voice sounds like an echo, but I can hear the sarcasm dripping from Johanna's voice anyway.

She's in my room dear me, she wants to talk to me. Blight isn't here to help. I'm dead. dead. "I'll be right out!" I shout, hoping she can hear me through the sound of the water. "Yeah you better be." She replies.

I quickly rinse myself and try to turn off the water. I have no idea how, but it does. I press the bottom left button, the one for drying, but a spray of scented air comes out. Bottom right then. Whoops. It dries me off pretty quickly, but I still smell like Frangipanis, the smell is sickeningly sweet, and I hope it wears off soon because it's gross.

I scramble out of the shower and wipe my feet on the towel on the ground. I begin dressing as fast as I can, all the while imagining Johanna out there waiting. She's not going to be happy. She's not known for her patience. In fact, she's known for quite the opposite. I quickly put the two pines in my hair, take a deep breath and open the door.

Johanna is sitting on the bed, a chair in front of her, with her legs on it. "finally" She says while rolling her eyes. She lifts her feet off the chair and beckons towards me. "Come, sit." I quietly obey and scurry over to the chair.

"Sorry about making you wait Miss Mason." I say, trying to salvage any chances of getting into her good books.

"Now first up, stop with all that Miss Mason crap, only those Capitolite idiots call me that. Your district Seven, so stop." Ok stop. Got it. "You can call me Johanna. Like what Normal people do, but don't call me when I'm busy or when I don't want to be called." ok, Johanna, got it. I nod violently to show I'm listening and that I understand. "Next up, what the actual hell is your name?" She raises her hands and she says this, exasperated.

"Its pronounced Sprass" I say. "What the bloody hell is that? Seven and their dumb names." She almost shouts. "You can call me anything you want. You don't have to use my name." She rubs her finger against her temples. "At least the capitol will love it. Sounds very exotic and all. Make a big deal out of it during the interviews. People will remember a girl with a exotic name and crap like that." She's giving me advice on sponsors. That's good. Very good.

"Now so - What the hell is that in your hair." She points at the two pine cones, examining them closely. "It's my district token, one for strength and one for luck." Her eyes widen like it's the most ridiculous thing she's heard.

Ok I'll admit it does sound stupid. But It's the thought that counts.

"You pinehead weirdo." I guess that's about as bad as it gets when insulting the only thing a person has of home. I don't say anything in reply though, so she goes on. "Look pinehead. I'm not here to give you some big apology for what I said earlier." I look at her, and she stares me down. "But If you're going to fight, then I am too. Are you fighting pinehead?" I guess that nickname is sticking then. Am I fighting?

"Yes. I'm fighting as hard as I can." I sound more confident than I feel. Johanna gives me a smirk. "So you scared?" Of course I am. Of course. But Johanna can't know that, she'll think I'm weak.

"No. I'm not scared." She bursts out laughing. "Hey look pinehead, talking back to be at the table is bloody rude, but I can handle." She then turns serious,"But lying to me. That's not acceptable you understand?" I nod. "Like you very geniously pointed out at the table, I was a tribute once too. You're going to be scared, no two ways about. You're scared you liar."

"Yes. I'm very scared. I might be dying soon. That can be very intimidating." She sneers. "Now that's more like it. Don't lie to me you got it? If I'm going to help you, no lies, no tricks, none of your damn surprises either, you got me pinehead?" Got it. "Yes, got you Mi- Johanna."

She smiles. Not nicely, but a little sly. "Good."

Just then, Blight peeks his head to the door, he spots Johanna. "Oh hey Jo, you're here. Anyway I was just-" "Dammit Blight can't you see I'm having a conversation with my tribute here? Can you get the hell out?" She shouts. "But-" She interrupts him ,"Bloody hell Blight!" "Alright Alright I'm leaving!" He closes the door softly.

"Sorry Mr Light!" I shout after him. Johanna raises an eyebrow. "So tell me about this little Miss Sunshine act you have going on." I'm confused, as usual. "What act?" Johanna rolls her eyes and huffs in frustration,"I thought I said no lying! Dammit! Come on, the talking to the other boy-" "Bruce?" "And being nice to Barbie-""Donna?" "and the Miss Mason and Mr Blight crap." I look at her… confused.

She narrows her eyes. "It's not an act is it?" I shake my head. "Of course it isn't an act. Of course I get a fighter, but you're just a little angel aren't you? I need to take your pretty little head out of the clouds and teach you how to-" "Kill." I said it. "yes. That. If you're all rainbows and sunshine, how are you going to do that huh?"

She's right. I'm probably not going to be able to kill anytime soon. I mean, it's just wrong. Very wrong. So I don't answer her.

She sighs. "Well pinehead, I'm telling you this to help you alright. You'll have to kill if you want to get out alive. You have to kill. At least once. It won't be pretty. It's another person you're taking the life of, you'll be the reason someone loses their son or daughter, brother or sister, their friend. But you have to. And if you're not ready for that then say bye to district Seven."

No. I can't say bye to district Seven, to my parents, my brother, my sister.

"You don't have to say anything, but just get it into that pine head of yours alright?" I still don't reply her, so she waves her hands in front of my face. I try to think of Johanna's games, when she had to make her first kill. But I can't picture it. I can't remember. I-

"Ouch!" Johanna flicked me with her fingers and it hurt. "If you can't take that, you're going to be in a whole world of pain in the Arena." I just stare at her. "yes?" Well she must have flicked me for a reason I suppose.

"Well if we're going to give a go at the crown, we start now." I nod. Yes, starting now is good. "So, what do you know?" She asks. "I'm good with edible plants and berries, survival things. I can run pretty fast too, and I think I'm a little smart?" She facepalms herself and I realise how absolutely dumb I sound. "okay, and I assume you're good with an axe. That's going to be -" I shake my head sheepishly. "What?" She asks in disbelief. "I'm not good with an axe." I give a smile.

"Dammit you're from district seven and you tell you you're not good with an axe?" "I mean I can use it but I'm not good with it it's just a little heavy!" "argh!" Oh no she's frustrated, and just when I thought we were going to be alright. She takes a few deep breaths and calms down. "Okay, you listen to me. During training you try to get some weapons. Something smaller, maybe a knife if you can, there are always plenty of knives. You have to get a weapon. You won't last long in hand to hand." I nod. During trainings try the weapons, I can do that.

She suddenly starts inspecting me. eyeing me from head to toe several times. Sitting there, I feel violated. "You're cute." She finally says, "Sponsors will like you very much, no too worried about that." "Thanks?" I am so CONFUSED. She suddenly sits up. "How old are you?" She sounds concerned. "Fifteen this year, but fourteen in the reaping." I say. "Three years to eighteen then?" "that's right."

"Three years." She whispers to herself with a frown.

"Why?" I ask, but she just shakes her head and continues," Have any angle you want to play up pinehead?" Ah this I know the answer to. "I was thinking likable, optimistic, hopeful kind of girl." Johanna rolls her eyes again. "So just yourself then?" "Yes." I hope she approves, I'm not the best actress and I don't want to screw it all up.

"That's fine. I think we can work with that. Alright pinehead, you'll be yourself." I can't help but smile. That's one obstacle down, I have my angle. "Now come on." She stands up and beckons me to follow her.

"Go where?" "Well Blight called us out for the reapings just now, but I told him to screw off, so now we're going to watch the recording. Ready to meet your competition pinehead?" Well ready as I'll ever be I guess.

I follow her to the screening room and sit down on the soft red couch, she turns on the television and flops onto the seat beside me, leaning over to grab the remote off the table. She then scrolls through the recordings, at first it's alot of Capitol shows. "Damn Barbie and her crap shows." She curses, we finally see the one labelled the reaping. the clicks play.

It starts with district one, they show and overview of their clean, rich district, including some blonde haired children laughing, they show the girls walking around in their expensive clothes and high heels, then it cuts to the square, where the mayor is giving the speech we hear every year, the same damn one. Finally their escort walks to the reaping bowls and picks a name. They girl goes on stage, she's clearly not a trained career, so she allows volunteers. A whole crowd of girls surge forward to volunteer.

Unbelievable, these girls all ready for throw their lives away for glory. I think I accidentally scoff. "Feeling a little jealous are we Pinehead?" she sneers. I just sigh and go back to watching. The winner of the little volunteer race they have is a girl named Tealina Archworth. She looks like a typical district one tribute, her blonde hair and blue eyes, looking evil as ever smiling on stage. It's a little different for the boys, a boy named Cobalt Archworth is reaped and he refuses volunteers, by their similar features, I know they're siblings. The commentators notice this too and jump on a chance to make a Cashmere and Gloss reference, except now only one will reign victor. The shot cuts back to them smiling at the crowd while District on cheers for them. Johanna Pauses it.

"Let's put you're little bit smart pinehead to use. What do you think of these tributes." I shrug. "Typical district one tributes, likely trained killers, she'll use her beauty to try and win sponsors, and he'll be deadly probably. They will probably play up their sibling angle," I say as an afterthought. But Johanna seems interested, so I try to elaborate. "They will stick together as far as they can in the Arena. Might cause tension in the Career pack. Probably won't kill each other unless they have to, I'm sure you don't turn to easily on family."

She smirks. "Not bad Pinehead. But two things.," She lifts up her index finger. "First, don't underestimate how bloodthirsty these tributes can be. Family or not, they can kill anytime. Secondly-" She lifts up her middle finger as well," Don't be sure of anything." She clicks play again and we are on to district two.

They show a shot of the extended victors village they have there, to accommodate all the extra victors. Then the stage, where the victors are lined up in an impressive line. District two has the most number of victors and there's a reason why. A young girl is reaped, but she is immediately replaced by a stern looking girl, Marbelle Feldspear, looking strong and determined. The boy is replaced by a cocky boy named Alexander Mical, the commentators say he's got the blood of a victor and he smiles cockily, waving to the crowds. Johanna pauses and asks me what I think again.

"Clearly handpicked volunteers, probably the most deadly in the district, They could snap me in half like a toothpick." I'm not kidding, the boy looks ten times my weight. "Hold up there pinehead, one thing you need to remember. everyone has a weakness, now look at them, tell me what it is."

I scrutinize the screen. The boy has a cocky smile plastered on his face, and the girl looks like there's fire blazing in her eyes. I think I got it.

"He's arrogant, that could be dangerous, he might underestimate the rest and get himself killed. She's angry, probably has personal motive, could be bad fo the career pack if they can't function together." Johanna smiles. "That's good. Always remember pinehead, everyone has weaknesses, you gotta find them and use them good in the Arena."

Next up is district three, they show the smoggy skyline and the ashen faced people of the district, looking solemn and subdued, its the total opposite of the past 2 career districts. The escort reaps a Rosali Levitte for the girls, the subtitles on the screen says she's 16, and she's quite tall, though she looks as underfed as anyone else in the districts. For the boys an Albert Frank, the boy sports a slight tan compared to the rest of his district, and he looks stronger too, the most distinctive thing I notice though, are his blue eyes. Most of their district has cloudy grey eyes, but it was as if the clouds cleared in his, and it was just a mesmerising blue. They both look sullen standing on stage, and the applause is hardly as enthusiastic.

"And them?" Johanna continues. "They look pretty average to me. But district three can be very smart and tricky at times, so I'll have to be wary of any tricks they have." All of district three's winners have won with their amazing intelligence, setting elaborate tras no one else can begin to comprehend the science behind. Their district is quite brilliant, and I'm surprised they are often so underestimated.

"About right there." Johanna says.

We move on to district four, where they show the sea and the beach, fishing boats out at sea, pulling in their nets with fish. It cuts to the reaping after that. Though district four is a career district, they don't always have volunteers. I always thought of them as the most human of the three career districts, they train to survive not to kill for pleasure. Sure, they do get a few nutjobs once in awhile but they mostly aren't that bad, not that I want to meet one in battle though.

The girl reaped is named Natica Murex. I see fear flash in her eyes before she covers it up with a strong face. She bravely mounts the stage, and I think she's hoping for a volunteer, but no one volunteers this year. She's 15, and looks strong, but I still think the boy from two could snap her in half. The boy is another story, they reap Scott Cerith. He's much lighter than most of the district, but he still looks strong. He has broad shoulders and towers above the escort and the girl tribute, I can't tell if he's career trained, but it sure looks like it.

Johanna just pauses and waits for me to make my observations. "The boy looks like a threat, physically strong, the girl much less so." I pause. "I think she was scared for a moment when she was reaped." Johanna just nods. "Remember, you never know how blood thirsty they are."

So the cycle continues as we go down the non-career districts. Five Atlanta Gideon and Lowel Wattson, they don't look threatening, and the boy is crying, but I don't mark them down just yet. You never know. Six reaps a thirteen year old girl, Helena North, who chokes on her tears, she doesn't look like a threat, and I definitely wouldn't be able to kill her if I met her. The boy Hugh Randal on the other hand, seems strong, and I keep him in view. Its us next. I look alright, and I even get a chuckle from the commentators when I tell Donna how to pronounce my name. "A name you'll never remember, but probably never forget either!" Good. I think my likable persona is safe, and I'll just try to play it up more when I'm there, they don't give Bruce a second mention though they do say that district seven has been an increasing strong contender in the games. At first I'm worried it'll put a target on our backs, but then they rudely add in how maybe we'll have better luck next year, and I think we're good.

Johanna lets it continue to district eight this time, but instead of panning over the district like they usually do, it just cuts to the reapings, where they pull out Annabelle Buckram and Dowlas Quinn. She's 17 and looks a much bigger threat than the tiny 14 year old, I tell this to Johanna and she agrees. After the names are read, the quickly cut to district nine, not waiting to conclude the reaping. We are at district nine where they show the endless wheat fields and the people harvesting grains, it then moves on to the reapings where Maysie Emmer and Aman Miller are called. They both look underfed and terrified, though they are both older than me and prove a threat.

We go to district ten where they show the fields with cows and horses. and the small houses which dot the grassy landscape. They all Jessie Chesters for the girls. She walks out of the crowd, and I realise she's twelve. It's always sad when a twelve year old is reaped, but I don't think that will move anyone enough to volunteer, however, the next scene surprises me.

They call Matthew Evans for the boy, and the kid runs. Huh. Running in something everyone wants to do, but no one ever does because to be honest, how far can you go? It's just stupid really. But to give him credit, he does make it past around a dozen peacekeepers before a bullet hits him in the leg, and he tries to limp away, screaming and grunting. The blood is soaked through his leg, and they zoom in to show the agony on his face.

This is what you get if you try to defy the capitol.

The peacekeepers begin to drag him towards the stage, he's screaming now and his leg is scraping against the hard ground. If he's going into the games like that, he'll never make it.

"Stop! Stop please stop! I volunteer! I volunteer!" A boy with light brown hair exits the crowd and steps up bravely. The peacekeepers stop dragging Matthew, but still maintain iron grips on his arms. The boy walks on stage. The escort looks delighted at a volunteer, and one who looks strong too.

"How Fantastic! And what's your name son?" He asks. The boy leans into the mike and says "Please let him go. Now." I don't know why, but the peacekeepers do,and matthew falls to the ground. He winces and grabs his leg, breaking out in cold sweat. No one in the districts get real medical help, so Matthew will probably live the rest of his life a cripple, if he doesn't bleed out in the square.

"My name is Cody Winston." He says with a serious expression. The camera zooms in on Cody. He's not particularly strong, but he does look strong enough. He has brown eyes and and tanned skin, and his shirt is soaked through with sweat. The camera pans to the girl. I forgot was there. She's staring defiantly at the camera. It's surprising, as most twelve year olds are sobbing crying, screaming even. But she isn't.

The commentators go on about how it was an interesting reaping in district ten. "Another Chesters in the games? Will they be able to, agaisnt all odds, pull a victory two years in a row." Another Chesters in the games.

District Ten had a victor last year, a charming loner boy who was competent at fighting, and generally outsmarted the careers and turned them against each other. They reaped his sister. A twelve year old. Probably for marketing purposes.

Those Lumberjackasses.

"The girl doesn't look like a threat, she's twelve. But she's the sister of a victor so sponsors might flock to her. The boy looks strong, mentally and physically, could be a real contender." Johanna just nods, her eyes blank.

The reaping goes on to district Eleven, they reap a girl by the name of Lavender Moeraki and Tanner Milford for the boys. They look normal, scared. District twelve is last. They reap a thirteen year old girl, Phacelia Dormen and a fourteen year old boy Felix Lupine. It's no secret that district twelve is by far the poorest of the districts, and they take a lot of tesserae, so its not uncommon for young ones like twelves and thirteens to be reaped. That's why they never stand a chance, not since Haymitch Abernathy won. Seems like this year is no different, maybe next year then, perhaps the 74th will be their time. I label them and minimal threats and Johanna agrees.

"So any ideas for Alliances?" She probes. I haven't thought about that, but maybe I'll just go through my thinking process with Johanna.

"I think I'd want an alliance to be all rounded. I'm thinking district three for the brains. And district ten for the brawns? and perhaps their sponsors as well." She nods thoughtfully at this. "Sounds like a good plan. Not that I'm on board with the twelve year old being in your alliance, but she might have some skills is Jordan taught her anything." Who is Jordan again? Johanna sees the confusion on my face "Her brother, the victor. Jordan. How about Blights kid? You want him in?"

I consider this carefully. Bruce is my friend. I trust him. But that's an issue, I actually like this boy, and I don't think I can stand to see him die. But from a strategic perspective, If we're together, and our alliance gets attacked, district seven loses its chances. I tell this to Johanna, she agrees. I think she's impressed by how "A little bit smart" I am, and frankly, I'm quite impressed by myself too.

My thoughts drift back to the girl from district 10, the twelve year old. She's the only one in the games. Likely she will not make it out alive. She's just a child. Twelve. like my Sprite will be next year. And her brother. He's going to lose her. It's like me losing Anya. He'll have to watch her on the screen just like I watched Anya, and there's nothing either of us can do about it. "What's in that pinehead of yours?" Johanna asks annoyed that I didn't hear what she said. Oops. "I was just thinking about the girl from ten. The twelve year old." "And?" "She's just a child. An innocent child."

Her eyes soften for just a second, and then they turn absolutely grimm. "So are you Sphres. You're a child too. Don't forget that." I don't know why, but the usage of my name (correctly) makes her statement resonate deeply with me. She's right. I'm just a child too.

And so are all of them. Including her.

Children who have killed and will kill.

Children who are property of the Capitol. and there is no childhood for us.

* * *

AN: My longest chapter so far! I really like writing the interaction between Johanna and Sphres, the contrast is great to work with :) Anyway here are the list of tributes and their ages so we don't get confused:

 **District 1:**

Female: Tealina Archworth, 17

Male: Cobalt Archworth, 17

 **District 2:**

Female: Marbelle Feldspear, 18

Male: Alexander Mical, 18

 **District 3:**

Female: Rosali Levitte, 16

Male: Albert Frank, 14

 **District 4:**

Female: Natica Murex, 15

Male: Scott Cerith, 18

 **District 5:**

Female: Atlanta Gideon, 15

Male: Lowel Wattson, 14

 **District 6:**

Female: Helena North, 13

Male:Hugh Randal, 16

 **District 7:**

Female: Sphres Owen, 14

Male: Bruce Redwood, 14

 **District 8:**

Female: Annabelle Buckram, 17

Male:Dowlas Quinn, 14

 **District 9:**

Female: Maysie Emmer, 15

Male:Aman Miller, 16

 **District 10:**

Female: Jessie Chesters ,12

Male:Cody Winston, 16

 **District 11:**

Female: Lavender Moeraki, 16

Male:Tanner Milford, 15

 **District 12:**

Female: Phacilia Dormen, 13

Male: Felix Lupine, 14

I made the names by changing and merging elements of the districts produce :) It has tough work but I'm happy with the 24 names, are y'all? Anyway, next chapter coming soon! Please review!


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